Innocence
by kurt couper
Summary: Au[everyones human] Buffy lives in CA with the perfect life. But that doesn't last to long before her boyfriend rapes her. Her life turns into baggy clothing and becoming invisible. So when they move to England what happens to her screwedup life? COMPLETE
1. chapter 1

_Remember everyone in this fic is human. I own nothing but the idea is mine._

_**WARNING: GRAPHIC RAPE** . You can skip this chapter and go onto the next. I'll give you a summary of this chapter on the next one.   
_

_xoxo KC_  
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Tears started to form when she yelled at him to stop.  
  
"Don't touch me!" she forced out while trying to escape his grasp. He held her tighter to his body and hooked one foot around her legs, bringing them both crashing to the ground. He fell heavily on top of her and she began to struggle underneath him.  
  
"Stop!" she shouted in panic as he ripped open her shirt. Buffy whimpered. He began to unhook her bra. "Please," she said in utter hopelessness. He smacked her across the cheek.  
  
"No. I don't think so, Buffy. No one says 'no' to me." he growled as his hand went under her skirt and tore off her underwear. Her eyes widened in fear as the reality of what was about to happen hit her. Tears began to spill as she tried to fight him. He grabbed her wrist before she could claw at his eyes, pulling her arm over her head painfully; a physical gesture telling her that she was making things worse. Clenching her thighs together as hard as she could, she tried to plead with him one more time. "Please!" she sobbed. "Angel, don't!"  
  
She screamed when he entered her and tore open her barrier. "You can't be a virgin," he said as he began his unmerciful thrusts. "Not by the way you dress."  
  
Buffy screamed as his movements became more brutal, tearing the tender flesh at her core. "Shut the hell up!" Angel yelled. He hit her in the face with the back of his hand and then stuffed her underwear in her mouth as a gag. Blood trickled down her lip. Her eye was swollen and it was getting hard to see. His hands left her wrist and went to her upper arms. He clutched her hard as he reached his climax.  
  
Buffy was having trouble breathing with the gag in her mouth. She was worried that she would faint and then God knew what Angel would do to her while she was unconscious. She began to panic when the thought struck her that some rapists killed their victims. 'But this is Angel!' her mind reasoned, calming her fears. 'He loves me. He wouldn't kill me.' Then, her mind drew the obvious conclusion that if he loved her, he wouldn't have raped her either, so that theory lost all credibility.  
  
Her fear over what would happen next prevented her from seeing or hearing the man approaching them from above. Buffy gasped as she felt Angel being lifted off of her and watched as she saw him being forced to turn around by the new arrival. A fist came flying at Angel's face and cracked him on the jaw. Angel went down from the blow and lost consciousness. The amount of alcohol in his system made it easy for the stranger to fell him.  
  
Buffy pulled the offending gag out of her mouth, and took in gulps of air. She laid there in a daze, starting violently when she heard a man's voice say, "Miss are you alright?" Tears spilled from her eyes again. Her lip trembled and she tried to cover herself. Her savior knelt down next to her and helped her to sit up as he wrapped his jacket around her trembling form.  
  
Angel groaned and woke up groggily feeling his jaw. "Damn. What in the hell?"  
  
He saw the man helping Buffy and anger rushed through his veins. He scrambled to his feet and pushed the stranger away from Buffy. The man hit the ground with a loud thump and Buffy was too stunned to move. Angel grabbed her by the shoulders, slamming her head onto the ground repeatedly.  
  
"Stop it! Please! Don't! No!" she yelled between the blows to her head on the hard ground. She was starting to lose consciousness, when the stranger suddenly got up and attacked Angel. He hit Angel clean across his face with his fist, and repeated his action when Angel's head snapped back. Angel let out a groan and slumped backwards to the ground. The stranger stood up, brushing himself off, then putting out his hand for Buffy to take.  
  
"We need to get you to a hospital," he said. "My name is Riley, by the way."  
  
Buffy started to cry again and softly said, "Take–take me home please." Her knees buckled as her head started to swim and she lost her balance. He picked her up in his arms. The sensation of being carried made her start to panic. "Please don't hurt me," she stuttered.  
  
"I won't hurt you, I promise." Riley reassured her. "Where do you live? Is anyone there to help you?"  
  
"My mom should be home." Buffy said shakily, and she gave Riley her address.  
  
The walk to her house was silent as Buffy struggled to keep awake. The man who carried her had saved her from Angel, but she was afraid to fully trust him just yet. Her head ached, and she winced at the intense pain from between her legs.  
  
Riley wanted to make sure she was okay. 'How can she be okay?' He berated himself. 'She was just raped and beaten up, I'm sure she feels just dandy.' He struggled for something to say, something to give her comfort, but came up with nothing.  
  
"Is this it?" Riley asked, as they approached the white house with a porch swing. Buffy nodded weakly. Riley climbed the porch steps and gingerly laid her down on the swing, making sure her head was supported by the cushion. He walked to the door and rang the bell.  
  
The door opened to reveal a woman with sandy blonde hair in her forties holding a glass of wine. Her face showed signs of worry, anger and bewilderment at finding a stranger on her doorstep. Riley took a step back, and introduced himself while indicating that Buffy's mother should come outside.  
  
"Ma'am, my name is Riley Finn. I–um, I brought your daughter home." Riley gestured towards the porch swing unsure of what else to say. Joyce stepped onto the porch and turned to see Buffy lying on the swing. She strode over to her, angry at her daughter for staying out so late and wondering who this strange young man was.  
  
"Buffy Summers, it is way past your curfew–"  
  
She trailed off and dropped her glass on the floor. The shattering of the glass reverberated in her heart as she looked at her daughter. "What–what happened?" she asked touching Buffy's swollen face. Both winced.  
  
"I presume you are Mrs. Summers?" Riley asked after a moment.  
  
Joyce felt like she was moving in slow motion as she took in her baby girl's battered appearance. She nodded her head, answering Riley's question. Joyce couldn't speak. She tore her eyes away from Buffy to look questioningly at Riley.  
  
"I think we need to get her to a hospital. She was hurt really bad."  
  
Joyce shook herself out of her stupor. "Yes, we can-can take my car." she said, suddenly springing into action. She ran into the house to grab her purse and then over to the black SUV parked in the driveway. Buffy groaned as Riley picked her up again, and carried her to the car to put her in the backseat. Joyce and Riley got in the front. They buckled up, and Joyce started the car. Once they were on their way, she asked the question she feared she already knew the answer to: "What happened to her?"  
  
Riley didn't know how to tell her so he said bluntly, "She was raped."  
  
Tears welled up in Joyce's eyes, "By who? Who did this?" she demanded.  
  
"A drunk man. Tall, dark, spiky hair. I didn't get his name" Riley replied. He saw Joyce's lips harden into a thin line as her expression turned dark. He got the feeling Mrs. Summers knew exactly who Buffy's assailant was. He refrained from saying anything more once they pulled into the parking lot of the hospital's emergency center. Riley hurriedly unbuckled his seat belt and stepped out of the car to get Buffy. With Joyce walking quickly in front of them, Riley carried Buffy into the emergency room.  
  
Once Buffy was safely ensconced in an examination room with a doctor and nurse, Riley gave his statement to the waiting police officer. Realizing he was no longer needed when the officer thanked him, he turned to Buffy's distraught mother who was pacing the room, waiting to be allowed in to see her daughter.  
  
"I guess I'll be going then. The police have my information should you need me for anything" said Riley, stuffing his hands in his pockets.  
  
"Thank you for helping my little girl." said Joyce tearfully. "I don't know how else to thank you for what you've done..."  
  
"Just keep her safe," he replied, smiling. With that, Riley turned and strode down the hallway towards the hospital's exit.


	2. chapter 2

_I own nothing...yadda yadda yadda. I won't say this again because everyone knows this._

_Summary: Buffy Summers was raped by none other than Angel! GASP She was a virgin and he was suprised by that. Riley came by, a stranger to both of them, and knocked Angel out. A lot of fight sequences went on, but finally Riley won, only since Angel was drunk. Buffy, barely conscious and bleeding many places (Angel not only raped her, but hit and abused her too) told the no-necked man to take her to her mothers. Mrs. Summers was upset and drove both teenagers to the hospitals, where Buffy was checked in. Riley left, but not before being questioned by the police. Everyone knows about the rape. Continue....  
_

_33 KC_

_--------_

Two months went by since the night that completely turned Buffy's world upside-down. Two months of telling her story to the police so many times, she lost count. Two months of avoiding the reporters, and trying to ignore the whispers and stares her fellow students cast her way, when she walked the halls at school. Two months of trying to keep herself from falling apart, and from reliving that night over and over again in her dreams.  
  
Buffy had just wanted to curl up in a ball in her bed and never leave her house after the rape, but Joyce Summers wasn't about to let her daughter hide herself away from life. She knew that the longer Buffy stayed home, the harder it would be for her to face the world. So, two weeks after the attack, she insisted that Buffy go back to school and hold her head up high. Buffy 'put on a brave face', but inside she was quaking. Some of the crueler people in school made up jokes about her, which of course found their way to her ears. There were also insensitive boys to deal with, who propositioned Buffy for "dates", thinking she was an easy mark now.  
  
The friends she had hitherto counted on had pulled away from her, and she from them. They just couldn't know what she was going through. Isolated and frightened, her life had become a waking nightmare.  
  
The evidence against Angel was damning; not only did the DNA extracted from the rape kit match Angel's exactly, but the prosecution had an eyewitness in Riley Finn, Buffy's rescuer. Nothing Angel's powerful family did could save him from paying for his crime. The trial was short, but brutal. The jury took two hours in deliberations. At last, they came back with a verdict.  
  
"Has the jury reached a verdict?" Judge Gwendolyn Post asked the foreman.  
  
"We have, Your Honor," he replied gravely.  
  
"Will the defendant please rise?" requested the judge. Angel stood up, his family's team of lawyers surrounding him. His stoic face gave nothing away. The judge turned back to the jury box. "What say you then?"  
  
"We, the jury, find the defendant, Liam O'Connor guilty on both counts of rape and assault in the first degree." came the reply. The courtroom became a circus as the photographers' cameras flashed, and the spectators voiced their approval or disapproval. Angel's mother wailed into her handkerchief, and his father's face darkened with anger. Joyce, who had her arm protectively around Buffy's shoulders, pulled her daughter into a tearful embrace.  
  
The judge banged her gavel, restoring quiet to the room. She fixed Angel with a fierce stare. "I sentence you, Liam O'Connor, to seven years in a state prison with a chance for parole in five," the judge said before slamming down her gavel. "Bailiff, please take the prisoner into custody."  
  
Another wail came from Mrs. O'Connor, and she fainted in her husband's arms. As Angel was led away by the bailiff, he looked over his shoulder at Buffy, and smiled. Buffy, meeting his eyes briefly, felt a chill go up her spine. Somehow, she knew this wouldn't be the last time she saw him.  
  
Joyce, catching the moment between Angel and her daughter, quickly pulled Buffy away from the reporters gathering close to them, shouting out questions. She refused to let her baby girl be looked at like she was some sort of exhibit, like she wasn't a human being. They hurried to Joyce's car, and drove to the safety of a house of a family friend. They had anticipated that no matter what the outcome of the trial, their own house would be besieged by the media. Angel's family was too well known in the state of California, and anything involving him was fodder for the tabloids.  
  
Joyce sighed as she drove. She had hoped that she and Buffy would be able to continue living their lives in Sunnydale after the trial. But, even though the outcome was positive, she knew that life here was getting to be too much for her young daughter. Nothing could ever be the same again, and her formerly carefree, normal life had been forever tainted. This realization had forced Joyce to come to a decision. 'It's not running away,' she rationalized. 'It's a chance for Buffy to start fresh somewhere, in a new place where everything she sees won't remind her of her ordeal.'  
  
A new life in London awaited Joyce and Buffy Summers. They had family in England, and a cousin of Joyce's had connections at The British Museum where Joyce would be working until she could set up an art gallery of her own. Buffy would be among new people, who knew nothing of the horrific events in her life and could start afresh. It wouldn't be easy; Buffy wouldn't get over this trauma overnight, Joyce knew, but it was a step in the right direction. Joyce glanced at her beautiful, sad daughter, and prayed that someday soon, she'd see that face light up with life again.  
  
"Flight number 428 to London is prepared to board. Rows 20 and higher please load the plane."  
  
"That's us, baby," said Joyce, standing up and hoisting her travel bag over her shoulder. Buffy followed her mother to the gate, her heart a little heavy because her father had not called to say goodbye.  
  
"Mom," she said while the flight attendant took their boarding passes and checked their passports. "How come Dad hasn't called yet? He knew we were leaving today, right?"  
  
Joyce put her arm around Buffy's shoulders as they headed down the gateway. "I know, honey, I told him," Joyce sighed. She hadn't wanted to broach the subject at such an awkward time, but it couldn't be helped.  
  
"You don't think he's ashamed of me, because of– because of what– "  
  
"Good Lord, darling, no! No, of course not." Joyce knew how much Buffy adored her father, and strove to win his approval. Hank had become more and more distant from his only daughter in recent years, and the rape and trial had proved difficult for him to handle. Joyce and Buffy shuffled down the aisle of the airplane, looking for their seats.  
  
"Your Dad loves you, Buffy," she said as they settled into their seats. "Unfortunately, you're just finding out what I realized before the divorce. He's a very self-absorbed guy, who has a lot of difficulty dealing with things that aren't right in front of him. He gets so caught up in his work, and he forgets what's really important. I'm sure he'll call once we get to London."  
  
'Sure,' thought Buffy rather bitterly. 'Maybe in three months, he'll remember he has a daughter.'  
  
The captain's voice came over the loudspeaker. "Welcome aboard on Flight 428 to London, this is your captain speaking. I expect a smooth flight. Sit back, relax, and if you feel like you're going to puke, well, all hope is lost. "  
  
Some older people laughed at the joke, a couple rolled their eyes, and one man grabbed the armrest intensely. 'This is going to be a long flight, if the captain's going to crack jokes like that the whole time,' Buffy thought and hoped that the airline had some decent movies to offer later.  
  
Once the plane had taken off, and was cruising at a safe altitude, Buffy leaned her seat back and tried to sleep. She hadn't been getting much sleep lately. Every time she closed her eyes, she would see him there, looming over her and smothering her, trying to choke her to death, or threatening to kill her family. Angel was haunting her dreams. She lived in almost constant terror. She wouldn't let anyone touch her, or even look at her for too long. She would not walk down the street alone, even if it were midday. Sometimes she would just let her mind drift off, looking at nothing, trying to escape the world around her. She would dream that she was somewhere else, a place where Angel had never existed and where she was happy. She didn't even remember what happy felt like.  
  
Unable to relax, she picked up the book she had packed in her carry-on bag, and soon lost herself in a different world. Joyce sat beside her, looking a magazine, but not really taking in the articles. Her mind went in circles, thinking of all the things she would need to do once they settled into their new home.  
  
Several hours, and a really bad in-flight movie later, Buffy stretched and yawned in her seat.  
  
"Why don't you try to take a nap, honey?" said Joyce. "You're going to need your energy once we get there. Once we've gotten to the new apartment, we can veg out and watch TV or just sleep some more." Buffy nodded sleepily, picking up a pillow and placing behind her head.  
  
As her mind sought the blissfulness of sleep, she heard a familiar voice whisper, "I told you that I'd be back," She fluttered her eyes open and shut. All she could see was darkness.  
  
"Who are you?" she asked putting her hands out to feel something around her. Was she blind? The voice laughed coldly. Suddenly, two hands clasped her firmly by the shoulders. She struggled to break free, but found herself helpless. "Angel," she said softly, her voice quavering in fear. She felt his presence all around her, smothering her. She began to panic as he pulled her into an embrace...  
  
Angel's presence faded, and she felt herself dancing; waltzing in the arms of another man, one she didn't know. The air was filled with music, and she tried to look at the man's face, but all she could see was a blur, no features. Despite this, she felt safe and loved, and lost herself in the movements of the dance. Looking down at her body, she saw she wore a long, white flowing dress. "I love you," she heard him say. She opened her mouth to tell him she loved him too, when the music stopped, and she was once again in darkness, and she was wrenched out of the strangers grasp. Buffy struggled to see, and her vision cleared a little; a red haze materialized around her and she again looked down at herself. Her dress was molding to her body more tightly and turning blood red, so deep that it could trickle crimson drops. She heard Angel's malevolent laughter in her ear. Frozen to where she stood, she felt his hand slide up her leg, lifting her skirt above her hips, and she cried out for him to stop. She tried to reach behind her to claw at him, but he caught her wrists and spun her around to face him. She could see his face in the dim red light.  
  
"Not so virgin now, are ya?" he chuckled. "Looks like I spoiled that pallet." He threw his weight down on top of her, and she felt herself falling...  
  
Buffy lurched forward in her seat, as the impact of the plane's landing caused her abrupt awakening. Looking down at herself, she saw only the blue jeans and the pink sweater she'd put on this morning. She took a deep breath, and sat back in relief.  
  
'Just a dream, just a dream...' she chanted over and over in her mind.  
  
The captain's voice interrupted her mantra. "Virgin Airlines would like to welcome you to Heathrow Airport in London, England. The local time is ten p.m. Please remain seated while the plane makes its way to the gate, or our flight attendants will subject you to severe humiliation."


	3. chapter 3

The next afternoon provided the new arrivals with a rare sunny day and no fog. Buffy and her mother sat on a bench in Piccadilly Circus watching the passer-by, and taking in their new surroundings.  
  
"Oh my God, Mom. It's so beautiful here." Buffy said in complete awe while looking around the city.  
  
"Yes it is, honey," said Joyce. She was more thrilled than she could say with how the change of scenery had piqued Buffy's interest so quickly. She rewrapped the remainder of the fish n' chips they'd been munching on and stuffed them into a paper bag. "So how do you like the apartment? I know it's smaller than what we're used to, but it was the only thing available and it was so very close to the museum and not too far from school either, and I just think–"  
  
Buffy smiled, "Mom it's beautiful. I love it. And it's perfect."  
  
Joyce smirked, "I know, I'm rambling," Buffy rolled her eyes comically. "Take pity on your old mother, Buffy, she tends to get overexcited."  
  
Buffy smiled, and scooted closer to her mother to lean against her shoulder. Her jet lag had dissipated, and along with it, the dark, heavy burden she'd been feeling on her small shoulders for two long months. Being in a new place opened up doors in her mind like nothing else could have done.  
  
"C'mon, dear, we should go back to our new home, so we can actually live in it," said Joyce with a wry grin. The Summers women stood up from the bench, and headed back to the apartment.  
  
Buffy really did like the apartment. In fact, the whole building complex was just stunning. The flat had two bedrooms and two baths, a living room, kitchen, and a bonus room, and it had come furnished. Buffy's room was by far the best. It had a window overlooking the park and a walk-in closet. The midnight blue walls were blank, but she decided to fill them up with many pictures. Maybe some pictures of her dad, for whom she still hoped would not sever his ties with her. She'd definitely try to find a poster print of some John Waterhouse paintings, and have her mother frame them. She'd make her room her sanctuary. Her safe place, so that maybe sleep and dreams would no longer hold any horror for her.  
  
Joyce Summers was absolutely exhausted. After a whole afternoon and evening of unpacking, and making a home, she definitely needed a breather. Thinking Buffy might like to have an 'ice cream' break; Joyce leaned into her daughter's bedroom door.  
  
"Buffy, I thought maybe we could-" Joyce paused when she realized Buffy wasn't in her room. Frowning slightly, she headed towards one of the bathrooms. When she didn't find her there, Joyce felt a sense of dread start to creep over her.  
  
'Don't be ridiculous Joyce,' she admonished herself. 'She wouldn't have gone anywhere without telling you. And nothing could've happened to her in here.' But then, Joyce had thought that nothing bad could have happened to her little girl in the quiet town of Sunnydale; and ever since then, her illusions of a safe world crumbled, and she began to panic easily at the slightest hint of trouble.  
  
A loud knock at the door made her jump, as she continued to search the apartment, calling for her daughter. She knew she was being irrational, but her heart refused to calm its pounding, as she approached the door slowly. Her imagination was getting the better of her, and visions of policemen, waiting to give her the news every parent dreads hearing flashed through her mind.  
  
When she finally did open the door, she was met with a pair of kindly, bespectacled blue eyes set in a handsome, friendly face. She immediately felt a rush of relief; for some reason she was sure that this stranger was soon to become a friend.  
  
"Er, hello, I'm Rupert Giles. I live down the hall." He spoke in a cultured British accent. "You must be Mrs. Summers."  
  
"Please call me Joyce," she replied and she took his hand when he offered it. "Won't you come in? I'm sorry the place is such a mess. As you can see, we haven't quite finished unpacking." Joyce gestured helplessly towards the boxes piled up high in front of the couch.  
  
"Oh, please, don't concern yourself about that," Rupert replied, finding himself instantly at ease with his new American neighbor. "I had just dropped by to-"  
  
Rupert stopped in mid-sentence when he heard a slight moan coming from somewhere nearby. Joyce whirled around, looking for the source of the noise when they heard someone say, "No stop," softly. Joyce hurried over to the couch, slipping through a tight space between the boxes and an end table in order to reach her daughter.  
  
'No wonder, I couldn't find her,' she thought with relief. 'She was hiding herself so well.'  
  
Buffy was twisting in her sleep, a pained expression on her face. Joyce reached out and tenderly placed a hand on Buffy's cheek. "Baby, it's okay," she whispered. "It's just a dream. Angel isn't here. It's just a dream. Shhh. It will be okay," she cooed. Buffy blinked her eyes open, and upon seeing her mother, she sat up rapidly, throwing her arms around her and hugging her tightly. Wiping away her tears with her long sleeved sweatshirt she looked up to see a bewildered but compassionate looking man. Feeling embarrassed, she pulled away from her mother, trying to regain her composure, and she offered the stranger a slight smile. The man smiled back at her kindly.  
  
"Mr. Giles," said Joyce straightening up from the couch. "This is my wonderful daughter, Buffy."  
  
Offering a hand to the young girl he said, "Oh, please, call me Rupert. Or Giles, people seem to prefer that name for some reason," he chuckled.  
  
Buffy shyly took the offered hand. "Nice to meet you," she said.  
  
"Can I offer you something, Giles?" asked Joyce. "We haven't had a chance to go shopping yet, but I'm sure we have some tea somewhere."  
  
"Oh no, thank you, I didn't want to impose," Giles replied. "I just stopped by because the manager asked me to drop off this key for you." He reached into his pocket, and held out a brass key to the ladies.  
  
"Key for what?" asked Buffy, sounding a little shakier than she'd have liked.  
  
"It's the key for the gym and pool. It's connected, but they keep the door locked." He smiled, "And if there is anything I could do for you, please don't hesitate to call. I'm in flat 1530, and I'd be happy to be of service."  
  
"Thanks so much, Giles, we really appreciate it." Joyce smiled, taking the key, and then slipped her arm around Buffy's shoulders.  
  
"Not at all," replied Rupert. "I'll just get out of your hair then, and let you get settled." With a grin, he walked to the door and let himself out.  
  
Joyce hugged her daughter to her once they were alone. Buffy squeaked at her mother's sudden embrace.  
  
"Uh, Mom? Air becoming an issue here,"  
  
Joyce let go of her daughter and stood back. "I'm sorry, sweetie. You just gave me a scare earlier."  
  
"When? Did I jump out from behind the door and yell 'boo'?" Buffy asked, perplexed.  
  
"No, I– I couldn't find you before, and...Oh, I guess I'm being irrational, but I couldn't find you anywhere, and I thought something had happened. I'm a lot jumpier ever since..." Joyce trailed off, not wanting to upset her daughter by putting words to her fears.  
  
Buffy shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah. I'm sorry, Mom. I'll just never leave the apartment, okay?" Buffy smiled, but her heart wasn't really in her little jest.  
  
"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. It's not your fault, you know that, right?" Joyce eyed Buffy with concern.  
  
"Yeah, I do." Desperate to lighten up the mood, Buffy said, "I think I'm gonna go down to the gym, and check out the equipment. Maybe I'll go for a swim." Buffy headed down to her room to change.  
  
"Sounds good, dear. I'll order us up some dinner. The management left us some take-out menus. Is Chinese all right? "  
  
"That's fine!" Buffy shouted.  
  
Ten minutes later, Buffy stepped out of the elevator in the lobby and asked the woman at the front desk where the gym was. Buffy thanked her, and headed in the direction the lady had pointed. Unlocking the double glass doors, Buffy stepped inside and stood in awe. For a fitness center belonging to an apartment complex, it was huge. The hum of treadmills and elliptical trainers filled her ears, and she saw rows of women and men exercising. She headed towards the locker room area, eyeing the weight machines, but then she spotted the pool, and grinned. The Olympic-sized swimming pool was deserted; she had it all to herself. Spotting the ladies' locker room, she grabbed a towel, and ran inside.  
  
Clad in a very modest one-piece bathing suit, she found her way to the pool's entrance. Tossing her towel and clothes on a bench, she walked to the edge of the deep end, and dived in. The instant she hit the water, Buffy felt at peace. It was her primary essence. It ran through her soul and made her feel whole, a feeling that hadn't been there for a long time. She glided through the water letting it sooth her. After thirty minutes of laps and just enjoying herself for the first time in a long time, she got out of the pool. She dried herself off, and then wrapped the towel around her waist like a sarong. She pulled her oversized t-shirt over her head, and heading back to the locker room, she squeezed the excess water from her long, brown hair.  
  
"Hey you," A man's voice startled her out of her post-swim euphoria. She looked over her shoulder to see a dark-haired man jogging towards her. On instinct, she started to run to the exit and down the hallway to the locker rooms. She could her him behind her, and her heart was pounding as she tried to get to the ladies' room before he could catch her. Just as she was about to reach the door, a hand came down on her shoulder. She let out a scream.  
  
"No!" She whirled around, her eyes widening in fear, and her hands came up in a protective gesture.  
  
The young man looked at her for a moment. "Uh...are you okay? I didn't mean to scare you." He held up the pair of shorts she had left behind. "Are these yours?"  
  
Her lip trembled, and her shoulders slumped in relief and embarrassment. She took the shorts from him, and whispered, "Thank you," then swiftly turned and disappeared inside the locker room.  
  
Xander Harris blinked in surprise. 'Mental note to tell Spike about the freaky pool girl later tonight,' he thought, shaking his head as he headed back to the pool for a swim.  
  
Buffy, having taken off her shirt and bathing suit, stepped into the shower stall. Letting the hot water run over her head, she began to cry. "When am I going 


	4. chapter 4

"Buffy. Time to wake up. You start school today." Joyce shook her daughter's shoulder gently.  
  
Buffy growled at the bad news and put her pillow over her head. Joyce smiled and yanked all the covers off of her.  
  
"Mom! You're so mean!" Buffy grumbled, curling up into a little ball.  
  
"I'm the Mom, that's my job." Joyce laughed, leaning over and kissing her daughter on the forehead.  
  
Buffy whined sleepily and rolled over onto her back. Opening one eye she looked at her mother pleadingly. "Five more minutes?" she wheedled.  
  
"I gave you five more minutes ten minutes ago." Joyce admonished. "Come on, sleepy head, it's the first day of school. Are you excited?"  
  
Buffy feebly waved her arms above her head, feigning excitement. "Yay, school," she mumbled. Seeing her mother's determined glare, she gave up her campaign for more sleep and slowly rose out of bed.  
  
"That's my girl. Now, what do you want for breakfast?" Joyce asked as she ushered Buffy to the bedroom door.  
  
"Not hungry," Buffy declared, shuffling to the bathroom.  
  
"Buffy, please eat something this morning," Joyce sighed. "You're practically swimming in your clothes these days. Just two pieces of toast, at least."  
  
"Okay, Mom, I'll eat two pieces of toast." Buffy agreed, closing the door. Joyce sighed again, having hoped to goad her daughter into eating some scrambled eggs and maybe some bacon. That child was getting much too thin.  
  
Ten minutes, two pieces of toast and one slice of bacon later, Buffy searched her closet for something to wear. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror on the closet door and winced. Her skin was almost transparent. She just didn't have an appetite anymore, but she resolved to try to eat more to keep her mother from worrying so much.  
  
"What to wear, what to wear?" she sang. She pulled out some baggy blue jeans that were frayed on the ends, a shiny silver belt, and a long t-shirt that covered all of her delicate curves. She didn't want any part of her body to show except her arms. Satisfied with the modest outfit, she pulled her hair into a low ponytail. She didn't look sloppy, but just very conservative. She pulled a big sweater over her already big outfit and was ready for her first day at a new high school.  
  
'Okay, Buffy, you can do this." Buffy had given herself a pep talk on the bus ride to school. No one here knew her, and hopefully she'd keep it that way, and just blend into the background. As she stepped off of the bus and adjusted the strap of her leather book bag over her shoulder, she took in her surroundings. A large, brownstone structure stood in front of her, bearing the sign "Gillis Day School – Secondary Education, Years 9 – 12".  
  
"Here goes nothing," she whispered as she strode up the walkway crowded with students. She wended her way through the clusters of teenagers, as they laughed and gossiped together, and felt a twinge of envy towards them. Everybody already knew each other, and she was 'the new kid'. Feeling small and alone, she pulled the heavy door open, and immediately sought the office to get her class schedule as she had been instructed. Luckily, she didn't have to search for too long, and she approached a very large, imposing woman standing at the front desk, absorbed in the task of stapling papers. Buffy cleared her throat, and the woman looked up, her small eyes taking in the girl in front of her.  
  
"Hello, I'm Buffy Summers. I'm new," Buffy spoke so softly, the woman had to strain in order to hear her.  
  
"Ms. Summers, did you say?" the woman asked. Buffy nodded in response. "I'm Mrs. Bellinger, the school secretary. Let me see if I can find you in here..." She shuffled some papers, looking for Buffy's schedule. "Ah yes. Here is your schedule and the name of your guidance counselor. A student volunteer should be here any minute to get you situated. Why don't you have a seat while you wait, dear?" Mrs. Bellinger smiled slightly and gestured to a bench to the left of her. Buffy took the schedule and sat down. A few students entered the office for various purposes, and Buffy watched as they came and went but took no notice of her. This pained Buffy somewhat, but she reminded herself that she wanted to be invisible. Finally, a sprightly looking girl with shoulder-length red hair stopped in front of Buffy and smiled.  
  
"Hello. I'm Willow," she said, and Buffy was shocked to hear that the girl spoke with an American accent. "I'm supposed to show you around today." Buffy stood up and smiled back at the girl.  
  
"I'm Buffy, but I bet you already know that." she said shyly. The red headed girl nodded her head and motioned Buffy to follow her.  
  
"I bet you didn't expect to meet another American in this school," Willow noted with a grin. "But there's actually a lot of us here. Well, not a whole lot, but a good many." Willow led Buffy down a long hallway filled with students hurrying to their classes. "What's your first class?"  
  
Buffy looked at her schedule. "English, with Mrs. Farleigh."  
  
"Oh! Me too!" Buffy jumped at her companion's outburst. Willow looked sheepish. "Sorry, I just get excited about school stuff. But that means that I can show you to your next class too," she stated perkily.  
  
Buffy smiled at the redhead, feeling a little more at ease in her new surroundings. As they turned a corner, Buffy said, "It looks like I have a study hall in the library after lunch. Do you know where my guidance counselor's office is? I've got Mrs. Slander."  
  
Willow's eyes widened in astonishment. "Wow. Mrs. Slander? She's a serious counselor. She isn't for the small stuff. What did you do to deserve her?" Buffy blanched at the question and Willow, noticing her discomfort, apologized. "Sorry, didn't mean to pry. She's back the way we just came; next to the library, so you won't have to go far."  
  
Buffy asked, "So are you in 11th grade, like me?" Willow smiled.  
  
"Yep. I would be. Except around here they say 'Year 11'." Willow adopted a snooty English accent and Buffy giggled. Willow stopped in front of an open classroom full of people. "Well, here we are. Just tell Mrs. Farleigh you're new, and she'll take care of you." Willow gestured for Buffy to precede her. Buffy tentatively walked over to the desk in the front, and Willow followed, taking her seat in the first row.  
  
Mrs. Farleigh, a middle-aged woman with graying hair looked up at the small, brown haired girl standing shyly in front of her desk.  
  
"You must be the new girl," she said, and Buffy nodded.  
  
"Ye-yes. I'm Buffy Summers," she stuttered.  
  
"Glad to meet you, Buffy," she smiled. The bell rang, and Mrs. Farleigh stood and walked over to Buffy, gently turning her to face the class. "Class, this is Buffy Summers. Why don't you tell the class about yourself, Buffy?"  
  
Buffy felt her stomach drop to her knees and swallowed nervously. "H-hi. I- I'm Buffy. I moved here from a small town in California with my mom, because she got a job offer here," She smiled shakily at the dozen pairs of eyes sizing her up.  
  
The teacher prodded her to tell the class more. "Is there anything you like to do?"  
  
Buffy looked at her shoes, not wanting so much attention. "I like to be alone," she stated softly, and Mrs. Farleigh frowned at the girl's reticence and nodded her head.  
  
"Why don't you sit down, and we'll start class, hm?" She patted the child's shoulder and gestured to an empty seat in the back by the window.  
  
Feeling the stares from the other kids, Buffy fixed her eyes on the floor and trudged to her seat. Grateful to be off the hook, she hoped that she wouldn't have to repeat the performance in all of her classes.  
  
Her hopes were dashed as she found herself the object of curiosity for her new instructors. She kept her answers as short as possible, praying each teacher would let her go after a few mumbled responses. After these painful moments, Buffy sought a desk in the back of the classroom.  
  
Thankfully, the morning passed quickly, and she headed outside to the common to quickly eat her lunch alone. When she finished, she made her way to Mrs. Slander's office before her study hall. Even though she was reluctant to talk about her ordeal, she'd promised her mother that she would talk to her counselor at school. She felt she might as well get it over with right away.  
  
Buffy found the door to the counselor's office easily and knocked softly. She heard a voice telling her to enter, and she pushed the door open. An elderly, stern-faced woman greeted her stiffly.  
  
"And who might you be, young woman?"  
  
Buffy winced at the woman's severe demeanor. "I'm Buffy Summers, and I'm new here today. You were listed as my guidance counselor, and I had a free period, so I thought I'd come see you and maybe make an appointment or something-" Mrs. Slander cut Buffy's nervous ramblings short.  
  
"No, Miss Summers that won't be necessary. You may as well start now since you're here." She walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a file. Buffy stood awkwardly in the doorway, and the woman barked at her. "Sit, please."  
  
Buffy closed the door behind her and scrambled into a plush chair across from the desk, dropping her book bag on the floor. Mrs. Slander sat at her desk, perusing the contents of the file.  
  
"It says here that you were raped two and a half months ago. Is that true?" The counselor asked without emotion, her eyes still on the file.  
  
Buffy nodded her head mutely, jarred by the woman's bluntness. "This is going to be private information, right? Only you and me are going to know about it, right?" Buffy asked uncertainly.  
  
"If you want it to be," was the answer. Mrs. Slander then proceeded to ask several probing questions dealing with the aftermath of the rape. Buffy felt very uncomfortable, but she answered the questions, one after the other. The bell signaling the end of lunch rang, but Mrs. Slander disregarded it, and persisted with her inquiries.  
  
"Why do you think this happened to you?" Mrs. Slander asked, looking at Buffy intently.  
  
Buffy looked down at her hands and replied, "I know it's stupid, but I feel like it was my fault. I was wearing a provocative outfit and I was hanging on him the whole night. I mean I feel like I told him I wanted it."  
  
Mrs. Slander nodded her head in agreement. "You did tell him. Well, not in so many words, perhaps, but what young girls today don't seem to realize is that actions speak louder than words. If you throw yourself at a man, you're asking for trouble."  
  
Buffy looked up, aghast. "What?" was all she could say.  
  
"You can't expect men not to react when you wear skimpy outfits and act like a strumpet. You brought it upon yourself, girl." Mrs. Slander fixed Buffy with a steely gaze. "It's a shame that it happened, but really, you ought to have known better."  
  
Tears sprang to Buffy's eyes. She snatched up her book bag and ran from the room. Mrs. Slander shook her head as she stood to close her office door.  
  
"Silly girl," she muttered.  
  
Buffy ran straight across the hall, and into the library, sobbing.  
  
"Sor-sorry ab-about b-being l-late for class," she managed to say as she tried to wipe the tears from her cheeks. She sat down at the table and put her head down on her hands trying to hide her face. A box of tissues was set down in front of her, and Buffy felt a tentative hand patting her on the back.  
  
A familiar, soothing voice attempted to quell Buffy's tears. "There, there, dear, it's all right. Erm, please-please don't cry."  
  
Buffy lifted her head slowly, puzzled as to why she knew this man's voice. Staring at the uneasy gentleman in tweed, she struggled to remember where she'd seen him.  
  
"Giles!" she blurted out, when her mind finally found all the puzzle pieces.  
  
"Buffy?" said Giles, recognizing his young neighbor. "Good Heavens, I had no idea you were attending this school," he chuckled, feeling a little less awkward.  
  
Using the soft tissues to dry off her face she turned back to him, "I didn't know you worked here," she replied. "You do work here, right? Otherwise, I'd find it kind of wiggy to see a man your age hanging around a high school." Giles' cheeks reddened slightly as Buffy eyed him suspiciously.  
  
"Erm, no need to get uh- 'wiggy'- as you say," he assured her, and smiled, adjusting his glasses proudly. "I'm the librarian."  
  
"Oh!" Buffy had no idea what to say to that. "That's great. So, are you in charge of my study hour? And where is everybody else?" she asked, looking around the empty library.  
  
"Ah, you have a free period? Well, just as you say, it's a study hour, but students are permitted to go work on labs or independent projects as long as they report here first. And stay within the boundaries of the school, of course." She sniffled and nodded her head in comprehension. Giles took a seat next to the distressed girl. "May I ask why you were late?" Giles reached for the tissue box when he saw her eyes water again.  
  
"Well, I have this counselor, Mrs. Slander. I went to see her after lunch to talk to her about...something that happened back home, and she was just...really mean about it." The tears spilled out of her eyes and splashed onto the table. "And she said that it was all my fault...and I just couldn't be in there anymore, you know?" Buffy's voice cracked, and her sobs erupted again.  
  
With a fatherly instinct he didn't know he had, Giles put his arm around the crying girl, and she rested her head on his shoulder. It didn't occur to Buffy to be afraid of this man, even though she had become afraid of them in general. Something about this man comforted her, and she needed desperately to be comforted.  
  
Giles wondered what could have happened to her. Why on Earth the child should be sent to that Slander harridan, when she was obviously very sensitive was beyond his understanding. He rubbed her back kindly and told her, "Rebecca Slander is the most insensitive woman on the planet. I don't know how she ever became a school counselor. Don't let what that old bag says bother you; she henpecked her husband for years until he finally had to go to an insane asylum to get away from her." Giles quipped in an attempt to make the girl laugh. Buffy gave him a watery smile. "Now, why don't you dry those tears, and settle down and do some schoolwork. I'll have a talk with old Becky later, eh?"  
  
Buffy let out a small giggle and then took a deep breath, which calmed her. Looking into Giles' kind blue eyes, she felt safe; he seemed a little uncomfortable, but he had a quality that put her at ease. She thought he would be a good father, and she wished for a moment that he was her father.  
  
"Thanks, Giles," Buffy sniffled, and reached for a tissue. "I'm feeling better now." Giles gave her a smile, and went back behind the checkout counter. "Do you maybe need some help? I don't have any homework yet, but I can...I don't know, catalog books or something. You know, 'Dewey Decimal?' " Buffy smirked.  
  
"Yes, we do," chuckled Giles, and he welcomed her assistance.  
  
She felt so relaxed around Giles that she found herself opening up to him in conversation. She told him a little about her life prior to coming to England, but was careful to leave out any reference to Angel or the rape.  
  
Giles enjoyed the American girl's company. He'd definitely found her mother very pleasant, and Buffy was just as bewildering and loveable. She helped him check returned books back in and restock them on the correct shelves. When the bell rang, Buffy was loath to leave, and Giles was equally as reluctant to let her go, but she would be back the next day, and Giles asked her if she'd like to help him in the library now and then. Buffy happily agreed, and left to find her next class in a lighter frame of mind.  
  
The end of the day came quickly, and Buffy didn't mind that at all. She was relieved the first day was over, and before she left she told the office secretary that she doesn't want any more counseling sessions with Mrs. Slander. She walked home thinking of the evening ahead and went over a list of things to do. She did have some homework, so she'd get that out of the way first, and then she'd take a swim. She hoped she would have the pool to herself again, and no encounters with strange boys this time. 


	5. chapter 5

A few weeks went by, and as Buffy assisted Giles in the library, a deep- seated connection began to form between them. He helped her with her schoolwork and she was happy that she could return the favor by cataloging books, and doing light clerical work for him. He listened to her when she felt blue and they joked with each other easily. Giles was pleasantly stunned by the young girl's sharp wit, even when she proceeded to butcher the English language with her odd turns of phrase.  
  
He was the closest thing she had to a best friend. She still hadn't made any friends among the students. She was leery of getting close to anyone her age. Buffy had been an object of curiosity during her first week of school, and people had approached her, but she remained quiet and aloof, and eventually she was labeled as an 'odd-fish'. Once, when a boy tried to flirt with her, she became very agitated, and he'd backed away, muttering, "That chit's not batting on a full wicket." Buffy had no idea what that meant, but as long as it kept people away, it sounded fine to her.  
  
Rupert Giles and Joyce Summers were becoming friends with each other as well, often having tea in each other's respective apartments. Buffy's lack of friends was a subject she and Giles discussed frequently. Joyce Summers worried about her daughter, and noticed that Buffy was sociable only when she was with her or Giles, but she kept others away at arms' length. Joyce had been incensed when Buffy told her about Mrs. Slander, and she'd called the school to complain. Unfortunately, the woman had been working at that institution for so long, she'd become a fixture, and they wouldn't fire her. Joyce decided she would find a real therapist for Buffy, so she could start healing, and open up to people again.  
  
About a month after the Summers women had settled into their new life, Joyce was asked by her boss to look at some paintings by an artist in Wales. She wouldn't be able to bring Buffy along since she'd have to miss school, and she thought perhaps Giles wouldn't mind keeping an eye on her daughter for her. She dialed his number from her office. After three rings, Giles picked up the phone.  
  
"Rupert, this is Joyce. Listen, I have to go out of town for a few days, and I was wondering if you might be able to look after Buffy-"  
  
"Of course, I'd be happy to, Joyce. I have a spare bedroom my nephew William sometimes uses. He hasn't been over for a while, so she could stay in there, if you'd rather she wasn't alone at your place." Giles offered.  
  
"Oh, thank you so much, that would be wonderful. I hate to impose on you like this, but when I get back, I'll take us all out for a nice meal as a 'thank you', how's that?" suggested Joyce, grateful for her neighbor's help. "Maybe if Buffy feels up to meeting him, William could come along."  
  
"Not at all, it'll be my pleasure," Giles reassured her. "I don't know about William, though, he tends to prefer to be with his friends more than with his old uncle." He wasn't sure Buffy was ready to meet his nephew. Will was a force to be reckoned with, and although Giles didn't know the specifics, he'd guessed that Buffy had been severely traumatized somehow, and he thought meeting his volatile nephew might be too much for at this point. He'd mentioned that his nephew attended school with her, but she hadn't seemed interested, so he'd dropped the subject. The girl was becoming like a daughter to him, and he was only too glad to help make her feel safe.  
  
That evening, Giles opened his door and greeted Buffy warmly.  
  
"Thanks Giles for letting me crash here. Mom has to go pick up this expensive painting in some town I can't pronounce." Buffy quipped as she entered the apartment, lugging an overnight bag with her. Giles marveled at how relaxed she could be around him. She was almost a different person; confident, smart, and cheerful. He hoped someday she could overcome her fears and be that way around others.  
  
"Planning on doing some homework tonight?" asked Giles with mock-severity.  
  
Buffy rolled her eyes and stated in a voice laced with humor, "And that is what I get for living down the hall from a teacher. Is everything about work and school with you?"  
  
He huffed, "Yes, and what else do you suppose there is to do?"  
  
She giggled, "Plenty! I'm going down to the pool. I haven't gone swimming in over two days with all the tests I've been studying for. I need a break." She added, "I'll be gone for about thirty minutes. Just enough time for you to cook us a great meal." She smiled and laughed, and headed towards the spare room to change. A few minutes later, she bounded out the door with a wave, clad in a big t-shirt, baggy sweatpants and flip-flops carrying her bathing suit wrapped in a towel. Giles headed to the kitchen to check and to make sure he had more than one frozen dinner, when his phone rang.  
  
"Who could that be?" he wondered aloud as he picked up the receiver. When he heard his nephew's voice on the line, he berated himself inwardly. 'Blast! I forgot William was coming over for dinner tonight! Can't cancel on him now, the poor boy doesn't get enough to eat in his own home,' he mused. His nephew was downstairs, and there was no way to warn Buffy there would be a strange boy joining them that evening. Giles felt relieved when the boy told him he was going to his friend, Xander's apartment first. Perhaps he'd have enough time to prepare Buffy then.  
  
Buffy tore off her clothes and dived into the water, cutting through it like a knife. She'd been swimming for ten minutes or so, when two boys entered the pool area. She recognized the dark-haired boy from that first day, as well as from school. The boy with the bleached blond hair she had seen at school as well, but she hadn't seen him in the apartment building before. They often hung out together, and she didn't know their real names, but she'd heard them refer to each other as 'the Whelp' and 'Spike'. They sometimes gave her a hard time at school; no doubt 'the Whelp' had told 'Spike' about her skittish behavior; but other times they ignored her. She preferred it when they ignored her, and didn't call out names like, 'freaky bint' at her. Buffy swam to the ladder and climbed out; too scared to be alone with them in the pool area. She hurriedly donned her t-shirt and sweatpants, not bothering to dry off when she saw them walking towards her.  
  
"Hello," Buffy heard 'the Whelp' say. She just shrugged it off as if she hadn't heard him, and walked by the two boys, taking care to avoid looking at them.  
  
The blond boy called after her, "S'not very nice to ignore a bloke when he says hello to you."  
  
She turned around and quickly said, "Hi," meaning to walk away again, but she stood frozen as 'the Whelp' walked over to her.  
  
"I'm Xander. That's my friend Spike, over there." He gestured to the other boy, who joined him. She stared at them, wondering what they were going to do. 'The Whelp,' or Xander, stared back noticing the fear in her eyes.  
  
"Uh, listen, I know we got off on the wrong foot before..." He moved closer to her trying to prove that he was friendly but she moved back just as fast, and turned to go. The other boy came up from behind her and put his hands on her shoulders to stop her.  
  
"Don't!" she cried. The boys exchanged puzzled glances. She pulled away and headed for the exit.  
  
Spike jumped in front of the door and said, "What's your problem?"  
  
Buffy felt Xander come up behind her and she suddenly felt sandwiched. The boys weren't even touching her, but they were too close.  
  
"Please just get out of my way?" she asked, her voice pleading. She reached for the door handle, but Spike grabbed her wrist. He was strong. She closed her eyes trying to keep the tears that formed from falling. "Let me go!" Buffy stared into his eyes and begged, "Don't hurt me."  
  
Spike was startled by her escalating distress, and let go of Buffy's wrist. Once free she slipped past him and bolted out the door.  
  
"She must be a lesbian," Xander quipped as she disappeared once again.  
  
Buffy reentered Giles' apartment using the key he had lent her. Her host didn't hear her come in; having gone to change his shirt after spilling marinara sauce all over the one he'd been wearing. Buffy headed straight for the bathroom to take a shower. As she slowly shed her clothes she looked at her reflection in the mirror. She frowned at what she saw.  
  
"What happened to me?" she whispered while wrapping her arms protectively around her body. She used to take such pride in her wavy golden hair, but she had stopped dyeing it shortly after the rape. Now, her hair hung limply over her shoulders, back to its natural dark brown color. Her breasts, which hadn't been big to begin with, were even smaller from all the weight she had lost. Her stomach was so thin that it looked concave and her ribs poked out. Buffy's eyes were sunk back into her head, dark rims circling them and her once tanned skin was now a pale white.  
  
Stepping into the shower she whispered to herself, "Who am I anymore?"  
  
Once she was finished with the shower, she dried off with her towel, and went to put on her t-shirt. Unfortunately, it was soaked from having worn it right after getting out of the pool, as were the sweatpants, so she wrapped the towel around her body instead, and stepped into the hallway, heading for her room.  
  
When she opened the door, she was flabbergasted to find Spike standing in the middle of the room, tugging a black t-shirt on. She let out a shriek, and backed up when he looked at her, startled.  
  
"Uncle Rupes," he called out. "Why is there a girl in your flat, wearing a towel?" Buffy clasped the towel tightly to her body, turning beet red, as he stared at her. Raising an eyebrow, he inquired, "Better yet, love, why don't you tell me why you're here?"  
  
Buffy opened her mouth to speak, when Giles came out of his room to see what the noise was about.  
  
"Oh -as they say- dear," he muttered as he took in the scene before him.  
  
"Something you're not telling me, Rupes?" Spike smirked at his uncle.  
  
"Buffy, I'm terribly sorry. I completely forgot that my nephew was coming to dinner tonight," Giles explained, feeling like a complete ponce.  
  
Buffy looked up at Giles, and murmured incredulously, "He's your nephew?" At that, Spike let out a bark of laughter, but wiped the smirk from his face when Giles gave him a warning glare.  
  
"Er, yes. I had mentioned him before, but-" Giles cut off when he saw Buffy was standing around in a ruddy towel and shivering. "Buffy why don't you go ahead and change, and Spike can help me with dinner." he suggested, giving Spike a meaningful look.  
  
"Uh, yeah, I'll just get out of your way then, pet," Spike mumbled as he walked past Buffy, who was giving him a wide berth.  
  
"Are you all right, dear?" Giles asked as he turned to leave.  
  
"Yeah, fine. Just peachy." Buffy answered softly, and she closed the bedroom door.  
  
Once Giles reached the living room, he glared at William, who was giving him an appraising look.  
  
"New girlfriend there, Rupes?" he asked snidely. "Didn't think you were into that kind of thing."  
  
"Very funny, Will." Replied Giles with exasperation. "She's the daughter of my new neighbor who had to go out of town for a few days. She asked if Buffy could stay here so she wouldn't be alone. Please don't give her a hard time; she's very sensitive, if you hadn't noticed."  
  
"Yeah, couldn't help but notice that," Spike noted. "What's wrong with her?"  
  
"I don't know, nor is it any of our business," retorted Giles as he strode to the kitchen to get dinner ready. "She's just shy, I suppose," he offered lamely.  
  
Spike snorted at that summation, but held back his comment when he heard Buffy approaching. He turned around to see her walking with her head down; she wore long black sweatpants and a monster size sweatshirt. Giles brought the serving dish full of pasta to the table, and the three of them sat down.  
  
The meal progressed in silence. Buffy was over her initial shock of seeing Spike and having him see her in a towel, but the scene in the pool room still unnerved her. Buffy eventually became tired of the tense, quiet atmosphere, and decided to be brave,  
  
"So you two are related?" Buffy felt like an idiot as soon as she asked the question. 'Duh, Buffy!' she thought as she slapped herself mentally. 'Obvious much?'  
  
Spike snorted, "Not by choice, right Uncle Rupes?" Buffy blanched at the nasty tone of his voice, indignant that he should say something so unkind to her friend. Giles opened his mouth to reply to Spike's barb when the phone rang.  
  
"Excuse me." Giles rose from his seat to answer the phone in the kitchen, which left an uncomfortable silence between the two teenagers.  
  
"Why are you so mean to your Uncle?" Buffy her emerald eyes flashing.  
  
The blonde rolled his eyes, "I am not mean, pet. He's just my sodding uncle on my mum's side. We never cared to see each other much until after she died, and now he's trying to relieve the guilt."  
  
Buffy looked down at her plate, embarrassed. "I'm sorry about your Mom." Losing a little more of her fear, she met his eyes. "But Giles is a great person. He's been a really good friend to my mom and me since we got here." She started to play with the food on her plate when he just stared back at her and frowned.  
  
Spike watched her fingers fiddle with the frayed collar of her shirt. He got a glimpse of a large scar just below her collarbone.  
  
"Where'd you get the nasty scar?" he asked before he could think.  
  
Startled, she pulled the collar over the scar; one of her many souvenirs from Angel. She searched frantically for a response, "It's just something that happened ...I don't want to talk about it." Her eyes got watery and she closed them tightly. He watched her intently and his mind registered the pain on her face when she answered. He thought it would be better for them both if he just shut up.  
  
Her small appetite had disappeared, and she stood up, taking her plate to the kitchen. While scraping her food into the garbage she said, "Tell Giles I'm going to take a walk. I'll just keep to the playground behind the building. I won't be gone long."  
  
Spike watched her, feeling puzzled as she left the apartment.  
  
'I just had to get out of there,' Buffy thought as she stepped outside in the evening air. 'Too many questions being asked.' It was dusk outside, and Buffy looked up, wanting to see the stars, but the London city lights had snuffed them out. Buffy ambled over to the playground, and sat down on a swing. Memories invaded her brain, bringing her back to when she was a little girl and her dad would push her back and forth on the swing set. They had been such good chums, but as she got older, he spent less and less time with her. He became so involved with his business and his secretary, that he neglected his child. Buffy had always wondered if she could have done something to make him stay. If she had just studied a little harder, maybe she could have made him love her more. She lost a piece of herself when he finally left the family. His abandonment of her had made her much too eager to hang onto boyfriends. She had completely loved and depended on Angel. She'd been blind to his arrogance, and as a result, he'd taken her innocence.  
  
When she came back inside, she found Giles sitting on the sofa, reading a book. Giles turned when he heard the door. "Oh, hello," he greeted cheerily. "Will told me you'd gone outside. It's better to stick to the playground like you'd said, but try not to make a habit of going out at night, eh?"  
  
Buffy nodded. Looking around, she noticed that Giles was alone. "Where'd Spike go?"  
  
"Spike?" Giles looked puzzled for a moment. "Oh, yes, that's what he calls himself isn't it? He went down to his friend's apartment. A fellow named Xander. Have you met him?"  
  
"Yeah, kind of," she replied as a big yawn overtook her.  
  
"I'm really very sorry about earlier," Giles offered, closing his book and standing up to face her. "I'd forgotten that tonight was his night to come over. I hope you're not too upset about that earlier, uh episode..." Giles trailed off awkwardly.  
  
"No," Buffy assured him. "Don't worry about it. I'll be fine." A sudden thought occurred to her. "Is he staying here tonight? I hate to kick him out. Maybe I should just go back to my apartment-"  
  
"No, please, Buffy I assure you it's fine. He's probably going to stay at Xander's tonight if he doesn't go home." Gently placing a hand on the girl's shoulder he said, "You look very tired. Why don't you get some sleep then? Don't worry about Spike, he'll be all right."  
  
"Good plan." she replied. To her own astonishment as well as Giles', she put her arms around him, giving him a timid little hug. "You're a good friend, Giles, you know that? Thanks for everything." With that, she headed for the spare room, leaving a bemused and very touched librarian in her wake.  
  
She crashed into bed, willing sleep to come and grant her some peace. 'I need just one good night of sleep. One night of not thinking of Angel. Just one good night...' Buffy soon drifted into the land of Nod, but was awoken a short time later by a knock at the door. She raised her weary head and called out, "Yeah?"  
  
Giles' voice answered back, "It's your mother. She's on the phone and she wants to talk to you." Buffy got out of bed and quickly opened the door and to grab the cordless phone from Giles. He turned to give her some privacy, but she caught his arm, and indicated it would be a short call. He felt a little intrusive, listening to her conversation, but if she didn't mind, he supposed it was all right.  
  
"Hey Mom. No, I was just getting ready for bed. No, no I'm okay. Well, okay as I will ever get when I dream about him." She glanced at Giles self- consciously. "I promise if I can't sleep I will take my pills. Yes, I have them. No, I haven't taken one yet...MOM. I will take my pills if I need them. But I want to see if I can sleep one night without dreaming of Angel." Buffy winced, not having intended to mention his name in front of Giles. She hoped he would let it slide. "Yes, I love you too. I promise if I can't go to sleep, I will take some. Okay. Be careful. I love you. See ya." She hit the 'off' button and handed the phone back to Giles.  
  
Giles looked at the girl curiously. "You're dreaming of angels?" he asked. "Doesn't sound so bad."  
  
"Uh, no Angel is a person, a guy I knew, well, I thought I did anyway..." Buffy swallowed and looked away. Desperately trying to cover her slip of the tongue, she put on a false smile and looked up at her friend. "Thanks for dinner. It was good. Extra yummy," she told him brightly.  
  
He nodded in acknowledgement and turned to go, but stopped and turned back to regard her with concern. "You know you can talk to me about anything, don't you?"  
  
Buffy looked down at her feet. "Yes. But this anything is very old news. Angel is old news." Giles nodded again, letting the subject drop and walked back to the living room. Buffy turned to go back into her room and said softly, "Old news that haunts my life." She closed the door and crawled under the covers once again. She found sleep as her head hit the pillow, but an instant later her eyes were wide open when she felt a presence in the room with her.  
  
"Don't think I forgot you, Buffy," intoned a voice from the corner of the darkened bedroom. She tried to scream or move, but she was paralyzed with fear. "You worry me sometimes, Buff. Some days I think you've forgotten me–the one who made you." Buffy drew the covers over her head to protect herself from this hallucination, but the voice seemed to have come closer to her. "You can't hide from me. I am everywhere you go. I will come and get you. You wait and see. I'll be back for you. We are meant to be together, Buffy," he whispered in her ear.  
  
Loud screams woke her, and it wasn't until she sat up and opened her eyes that she realized the screams were her own. The door crashed open, and Giles came running in and pulled her into a protective embrace in an attempt to calm the hysterical girl.  
  
"Buffy, what happened, dear? Shh, it's all right, you're safe," Giles stroked her hair, and rocked her gently.  
  
"He-he's out, out of jail. He-he got out," she told him through her sobs.  
  
"Who? Who got out? Did you have a nightmare?" Buffy pulled away from him and shook her head.  
  
Giles sighed, "It's all right, you don't have to tell me. You mentioned some pills, earlier, to help you sleep?" Buffy nodded again.  
  
"They're in my overnight bag,"  
  
Giles stood up from the bed and found the pills for her. "I'll be right back with some water," he said, and left the room. He returned shortly, with a glass full of water, and two pills. Buffy took the glass and the tablets and swallowed them reluctantly. "There, do you feel any better?" Buffy shrugged in response. "I'll let you get back to sleep then." Giles hugged her once more, and turned to leave the room.  
  
"Don't leave me!" she cried.  
  
Giles spun around, floored by her desperate tone, then he gathered his wits and pulled up a chair beside her bed taking hold of her hand. "Do you want to tell me about it?"  
  
Buffy nodded and took a deep breath, needing to release her burden. "Angel was my boyfriend. We'd been together for almost a year. He wanted us to sleep together, but I told him I wasn't ready." She stared at the hand Giles was holding, pulling strength from his reassurance. She continued, "I d-didn't see him for a few days after that. He'd gotten kind of angry at me. Then he called and asked me to go to this party with him. He started drinking as soon as we got there. Later on, he told me he wanted to talk outside where it was quiet, and I went with him." Her painful regret resounded in Giles' ears. "He started kissing me, and he was getting kind of rough, and I told him to stop, but he pulled me down to the ground. I t- tried to get away, but he was too s-strong." Buffy let out a strangled sob. "Angel ra-raped me. He hit me again and again. I was so scared he was gonna kill me afterwards, but someone came outside then, and pulled him off of me and took me to a hospital. I almost went into a coma, 'cause Angel had banged my head on the ground so hard."  
  
As he listened to her story, Giles tightened his jaw in anger. He wanted very much to kill the man who had so damaged this girl he'd come to think of as a daughter. The reasons for her fearful behavior since she arrived became clear to him, and he berated himself silently for not understanding her much earlier.  
  
"My dear, I don't know what to say." he offered. "I'm terribly sorry that this happened to you."  
  
"Do you think it was my fault?" her voice cracked, and she looked at him, her eyes wet with tears. Giles immediately countered, "No, absolutely not. Is that what that Slander woman told you?" He felt the rage build inside when she nodded in confirmation. He pushed it back down, determined to offer Buffy comfort. "Never you mind what she said. It wasn't your fault. The blame lies with your assailant. I only hope he's paying dearly for what he did to you."  
  
"He's in jail. But I had a nightmare that he got out," Buffy murmured.  
  
"Well, don't worry then. It was just a dream. He can't hurt you now. Not if I have anything to say about it." Giles assured her.  
  
Buffy smiled, grateful for his kindness. "Will-will you stay with me until I go to sleep?" she asked in a sheepish voice.  
  
"Of course," he replied. She smiled wanly, and lay back onto the bed and closed her eyes. Giles stayed and watched her until he was sure she'd fallen asleep, then left the room wearily to head to his own bed, and a troubled sleep.  
  
Two days later found Joyce sitting on Giles' sofa with a homemade scrapbook in her hand. "Thank you again, Rupert for watching over my baby," Joyce told him gratefully. "Buffy said she'd told you about what happened to her." Giles nodded his solemnly. Joyce continued with a sigh, "I know that you two are close and I don't know if this is going beyond the bounds, but I worry about her so much. She isn't at all the girl she used to be," She handed him the photograph album and he peered at the page she had opened it to. Seeing a photograph of a smiling, blonde-haired girl standing next to a tall, dark-haired man he asked, "Who is this girl?"  
  
"That's Buffy." Joyce replied. "It was taken about six months ago. It was her birthday. That man standing with his arm around her, that's- that's Angel." Joyce grimaced when she said the hated name. Giles looked at the picture again, studying it more closely. The girl's hair was dyed a golden blonde, and hung around her face in waves. Her skin was a healthy golden pallor, and her cheeks still held a little baby fat. The bright, green eyes twinkled mischievously. Giles marveled at the difference between the cheerful, innocent girl who smiled up at him from the picture and the quiet, fearful girl whose gaunt face reflected the pain of innocence lost.  
  
"What happened to her?" he asked in a hushed voice.  
  
His neighbor sighed regretfully. "After what Angel did to her, she stopped eating. And then she stopped dyeing her hair. She stopped wearing her old clothes. She just stopped everything it seems. Superficial things, but I couldn't find a trace of my baby girl for a long time. Coming here has helped, but you've done wonders for her. I can't thank you enough for that, Rupert." Joyce's eyes shone with gratitude. Giles smiled, and opened his mouth to reply, when they heard a knock at the door, and Spike let himself inside.  
  
"Oh, William. Have you been at Xander's all this time?" Giles inquired. Spike nodded, eyeing the older woman on the couch. "William, this is Joyce Summers, Buffy's mother. Joyce, this is my nephew, William." Joyce smiled at the teenager, and to Giles' astonishment, Spike tilted his head, silently regarding her then greeted her politely.  
  
"Hello, love. Welcome to the neighborhood."  
  
"It's very nice to meet, you William," she replied, standing up to take her leave. "I should get going though. Thanks again, Rupert. Hope to see you again sometime, William." Joyce picked up her purse and Spike held the door open for her, watching her exit. Closing the door, he turned to look at his uncle, who was holding an open scrapbook in his lap.  
  
"Whatcha got there, Rupes?" questioned the young man, as he took the book from Giles.  
  
"Oh, Joyce forgot her scrapbook," Giles explained. "Well, I can give it back later, I suppose. It's actually Buffy's." Giles headed to the kitchen to heat up the teakettle. "Would you like some tea, Will?"  
  
Spike flipped through the pages, looking at the pretty blonde whose image graced them. "No thanks. Da' wanted me to bring this over." Spike shut the book and reached into his back pocket. He held out a dog-eared envelope to his uncle, who had his hands full preparing tea. "It's some kind of official letter. He yelled some bloody incoherent things at me and sent me on my way, the stupid git." Spike put the letter down on the end table and sat down, looking through the scrapbook again. "This is Buffy? The skinny chit who was in your flat yesterday wearing a towel? Looks like a completely different person." Spike smirked. "Xander 'n me call her the 'don't touch me' freak." Giles angrily slammed the teakettle back down on the stove in response to his nephew's insult, but Spike was too enraptured with the pictures of the beautiful girl. Her smile was so genuine. He never saw her smile, but that was understandable since he didn't see her much. He frowned whenever he came across pictures of Buffy with her arms wrapped around some tall, 'broody-looking git with too much hair gel.' Discomfited at the jealous feelings the pictures incited, he closed the book and turned to his uncle, who was now sitting next to him, perusing the letter he'd brought. "So, what's up with the bloody letter?"  
  
"It's a revision of your mother's will." Giles looked at his nephew, astonishment evident in his expression. "She, er, wanted me to have custody of you. It says here that she felt Rick wasn't capable of taking care of you. Said he was too abusive. Is that true?" Giles took off his glasses and contemplated the boy with bewilderment. Spike looked away quickly, embarrassed by the question.  
  
"Maybe, but it's only when he's drunk. And ever since Mum died, he's been drinkin' a lot more, but it's not his fault. He's just findin' a way to dull the pain."  
  
Giles' voice got dead serious, as the thought of someone hurting his sister's son enraged him. "Yes, but if he hits you..."  
  
Spike stood up abruptly and walked to the door, opening it. "I can take care of myself," he muttered, and the door slammed shut, rattling in its casing. 


	6. chapter 6

On another rare, sunny day in London, Buffy sat in her Art Appreciation class, taking notes rapidly as her teacher lectured them on the Impressionists. This class was her favorite, and the only reason she ever looked forward to going to school. Three weeks had passed by since she had tearfully told Giles of her nightmarish experience, and neither had spoken a word about it to the other since. For the first time in a long while, she felt as if a little of her burden had been lifted. She hadn't had any nightmares, and she was content to blend into the background at school. No one really took much notice of her, but Spike had nodded to her once or twice when they passed in the hallways. Buffy only looked away shyly. She was still embarrassed that he had seen her wearing only a towel.  
  
Buffy stole a glance at him, sitting across the room from her. She'd noticed the purple bruise on his cheek that had appeared suddenly two days ago was fading into a yellowish green color. Wondering what could have caused the injury, she suddenly felt an odd kinship with him. It was something she couldn't explain, but Buffy had the feeling he carried sadness similar to that of her own. Lost in thought, she didn't see that he had felt her staring at him, and she was startled when he turned and their eyes locked for an instant. Buffy's heart gave a jolt when she met his blue gaze, and she reddened and quickly turned away. She didn't know why she had been staring like that, but she hoped he didn't bother her about it.  
  
Spike, seeing Buffy's embarrassed reaction, frowned, and wondered why she had been looking at him so intently. She'd had an unreadable expression on her face, and he suddenly remembered the ugly bruise he'd been sporting. He angered a bit when he thought that perhaps she pitied him. Of course, she couldn't really know for sure how he'd been hurt, he reasoned. For all she knew, he'd been whacked in the face during a rugby match in the park. Spike dismissed his anger, but he remained puzzled at the enigma that was Buffy Summers. She was such a little thing, he thought; so tiny and delicate and vulnerable. He didn't understand why she'd started to occupy his thoughts so much since that evening in his uncle's apartment. Spike figured perhaps it was because he couldn't seem to make a connection between the smiling, lively girl in the old pictures and the gloomy, apprehensive wraith that sat opposite him in class. Spike shook his head, trying to focus on the teacher's lecture. He wasn't doing very well in this class, and to be sure, he hadn't wanted to take it in the first place, but he needed an art credit in order to qualify for graduation and university.  
  
When the bell signaled the end of the period, the students gathered up their belongings, and headed to the door. Spike forgot about Buffy for the moment and his mind was now on his worries about graduating. Buffy was relieved to see that he hadn't looked at her again, or tried to talk to her, and she made her way to the door. She was startled when she felt a hand touch her lightly on the shoulder, and she whirled around to see her teacher, Ms. Green smiling at her.  
  
"Buffy, would you mind terribly if I spoke with you a moment? I'll write you a note if you're late for your next class," she said kindly.  
  
Buffy shook her head, wondering what her teacher's reasons for keeping her were. Ms. Green was her favorite teacher next to Giles, and she returned the smile. "No, I don't mind. I'm only headed to the library to help Mr. Giles next, so I don't need a note or anything," she answered. Ms. Green nodded, and motioned for her to take a seat, and Buffy obliged.  
  
"You are by far, my best student in this class," Ms. Green began and Buffy blushed. "You grasp the material very well, and your essay on the Pre- Raphaelites was quite remarkable." Buffy glowed under the teacher's praise, but wondered where this was going. Ms. Green detected Buffy's suspicions and winked. "You think I'm just trying to butter you up, and I am a bit, but rest assured that the praise was quite deserved." Buffy nodded, and the teacher got to her point. "There are some students in Year Twelve that are having some trouble with the essentials of interpretation, and I was wondering if you could devote some time to helping them out."  
  
Buffy stopped herself from automatically refusing the teacher's request. She didn't want to interact with other students, but her mother had practically begged her to make an effort to at least be more involved with school activities, even if she didn't try to make friends. She figured she wouldn't really have to socialize, and she would be helping her teacher a lot by assenting, so she told Ms. Green she'd be happy to tutor.  
  
Ms. Green's hopeful expression turned into a wide grin. "Great. I have two students that need help. Are you up to the challenge?"  
  
"I think so," Buffy responded in what she hoped sounded like a confidant voice.  
  
"Okay, then, why don't we start after school today?" Ms. Green suggested. "You can use this room, and I will give you the materials you'll need to help them study. So, we're all set then." Ms. Green clapped her hands, and then shooed Buffy out the door. "Off you go, and thanks again, Buffy." Buffy left the room, heading towards the library. Along with some nervousness regarding her aptitude as an instructor, she also felt a little elation that her teacher had such confidence in her, and it buoyed up her spirits considerably.  
  
Spike walked into the lunchroom a little later than usual, since his art teacher had pulled him aside in the hallway on his way there. She'd happily informed him that she had found a tutor for him, and that her name was Buffy Summers. Spike was surprised, to say the least that the quiet, reserved girl was going to be helping him towards graduation. The chit barely spoke in class, and though he didn't think she was stupid, necessarily, he wasn't sure she had what it took to get him to care much about art.  
  
Joining his friends at their usual table, Spike munched on the apple he'd brought, and brought up the subject of Buffy.  
  
"So, what do you guys make of that Summers chit?" he asked the group, gauging their reactions.  
  
Most of the gang looked puzzled, and asked why he wanted to know.  
  
"Seems she's going to be helping my arse to graduate." At the confused looks his friends gave him he added, "She's tutoring me in Art Appreciation this afternoon." Spike glanced at Tara. "You too, Sweets. We're to be in Green's room after school." Tara nodded and made a note in her day planner.  
  
Willow was the first to answer his question. "I was her student helper on her first day. I don't know very much about her, though. She seemed nice, but she's really quiet. Oh, I remember her asking where Mrs. Slander's office was since she was to be her guidance counselor. I kinda feel bad about how I reacted, though."  
  
"Why's that, honey?" Willow's stoic boyfriend Oz asked as he smoothed her red hair behind her ear.  
  
"Well, you know, usually Slander handles problem cases, and I blurted out something like 'what did you do to deserve that?' and she got a little upset." Willow winced at the memory.  
  
"I can't imagine why that cow, Slander is allowed to handle any kind of case, let alone problem kids," Spike commented. "Uncle Rupes says she's insane, but the school won't let her go." Inwardly he felt sorry that Buffy had likely been subjected to the woman's harsh judgment. He himself had been sent to her on a few occasions after causing trouble, and he despised the bint.  
  
Oz spoke up again. "Yeah, I heard that your uncle had some words with her about mistreating some girl. Maybe it was Buffy." Spike thought that was probably true, but didn't comment. "To answer your question, though, she's in some of my classes, not really the talkative type, but who am I to judge?" This got a laugh from the group, and Xander quipped,  
  
"Whaddaya mean, Oz, you're a regular 'Chatty Cathy'!" Everyone giggled, and Oz just shook his head. "Well, if you ask me, and I think you did, I think she's a little strange," Xander continued. "But you knew that, right? I mean that day when we saw her in the pool at my building, she flipped out on us."  
  
"She flipped out?" Willow asked incredulously. "How so? Like in a happy, 'hi I'm glad to see you' way, or a violent, scary kind of way?"  
  
"Neither." Xander replied. "She just didn't want to talk to us, and when we tried to corner her–"  
  
"What?!" "You guys cornered her?" Willow and Tara both spoke so sharply, the boys jumped, feeling a little guilty.  
  
"Hey, it's not like we were trying anything," defended Xander a little sheepishly. "We just, you know–"  
  
"We just acted like complete wankers and scared her, that's what we did," Spike finished for his friend harshly.  
  
Tara's brow knit into a frown, and the effect made her look fearsome. Spike blanched a little at the look she gave him and Xander. His normally mild and gentle friend barked at him angrily. "What did you do that for?"  
  
"Dunno," Spike said, cringing. "Just wanted to see if we could make her talk to us, that's all. We thought maybe she thought she was too good to speak to the likes of us."  
  
"Yeah, but then when you grabbed her–" Xander supplied without thinking.  
  
"You grabbed her?!" Tara glared at Spike accusingly.  
  
"Thanks, mate," he muttered at the now contrite Xander. "I wasn't thinking, I just wanted to talk to her, and she was being all uptight."  
  
"Do the two of you even know what big jerks you are?" Willow stated sarcastically. "I don't think she's uptight or snobbish, she's just shy." Spike and Xander had the grace to look ashamed.  
  
"Then you go and practically harass her." Tara added crossly. "Good job, guys."  
  
"I suppose you're going to make us apologize or something, huh?" Xander mumbled. Willow simply arched a brow, and Tara shook her head.  
  
"You'll just embarrass her further," she told them. "Just try to be respectful of her from now on, maybe." Tara rolled her eyes when the two boys looked at her with hangdog expressions. "Oh, don't do the 'sorry puppy face', guys!" she groaned. Xander and Spike exchanged glances, and turned back to the girls, sticking their bottom lips out and whimpering like little dogs, trying to melt the hearts of their irate female friends. Tara couldn't help but smile. Giggling, she relented. "Okay, you're forgiven."  
  
"But just this once," Willow added, still looking stern, but she laughed inwardly at her friends' antics. She had a hard time resisting the 'puppy face' and they knew it well.  
  
Buffy stopped anxiously outside the door of Ms. Green's classroom. She had taken her time after her last class, trying to calm her nerves as she went to her locker and packed up the books she needed to take home. She'd headed down the corridors, weaving her way slowly among the other students until she reached her destination.  
  
"You can do this, you can do this," Buffy chanted to herself, and she took a deep breath. "Just don't throw up on anyone, and you'll be fine." Buffy started to open the door, but paused when she heard voices inside. She could hear Ms. Green chatting animatedly with another girl and a boy. The girl's voice was unfamiliar, but Buffy started when she recognized the boy's drawling baritone.  
  
'Spike?' she thought frantically. 'I have to tutor him?' Buffy had to keep herself from turning tail and running home. 'No big, Buffy, he just saw you almost naked after he harassed you at the pool.' She frowned. 'Way to reassure yourself, girl,' she chastised inwardly. Squeezing her eyes shut, she shook her head at her foolishness. She'd have to face him sooner or later, and she may as well get it over with now. Swinging the door open, she stepped inside the classroom.  
  
Three heads swiveled around to face her. The girl was someone she'd seen around school, but did not know. Ms. Green came forward to usher Buffy into the room.  
  
"Here's the brilliant apprentice I was talking about," she said as she brought Buffy to stand in front of the other two teenagers. "William, Tara, do you know Buffy Summers?" Buffy avoided Spike's gaze as he responded, and she looked at the girl named Tara who was smiling at her kindly.  
  
"It's nice to meet you, Buffy." Tara said. Buffy smiled shyly, and warmed to Tara's gentle nature. Spike found himself a little miffed that Buffy wouldn't look at him, and he bit back a remark that would have had Tara ripping him to shreds. At last, Buffy turned to him and offered him a weak smile. He nodded curtly in return.  
  
Ms. Green handed Buffy a folder. "This is what they essentially need to study. If you could work on interpretation and different painting styles for today, I think that would be a good start." Buffy took the folder and nodded. She could do this. "Great." Ms. Green headed for the door. "I have an appointment at five, so you can use the room until then. I'll be in the teacher's lounge if you need anything." Ms. Green waved and walked out the door. An awkward silence followed her exit, as Buffy turned to face her 'students' uncertainly.  
  
Buffy put her book bag down and flipped through the contents of the folder. She glanced up and saw Tara looking at her expectantly and noticed Spike lighting up a cigarette by the open window.  
  
"Can you work miracles, love?" Spike asked taking a drag on his cigarette and blowing smoke out the window.  
  
"Why?" Buffy asked, mystified.  
  
"Because that's what you're gonna bloody need for me to pass." Spike flicked the ashes on the sill, and took another pull.  
  
She rolled her eyes, "If you want to learn this, I can help you. Otherwise, don't waste my time." Spike took note of her stern tone and arched an eyebrow. Ignoring this gesture, Buffy looked over at Tara. "What are you having trouble with, Tara?"  
  
"I-I'm having a hard time with remembering the artist to the picture and the diff-different techniques that they use and are known for." The curvy blond replied.  
  
Buffy nodded confidently. "Well, I can definitely help you with that." She sifted through the pictures of paintings, and held up one for Tara. "Take a look at this one, and–" She was cut off by a loud groan from Spike.  
  
"This is bloody stupid. I can't believe that I am going to fail art and then I won't bloody graduate!" Buffy strode over to Spike and pulled the cigarette from his mouth and crushed it under her foot. She stared Spike right in the eye, her lips set in a firm line.  
  
"You definitely won't graduate if you keep interrupting me." She folded her arms and leveled her gaze. "Now, if you're finished with your bellyaching, I'd like to get started." Spike returned her stare, but Buffy held her ground. Sighing, Spike shrugged and stood up from the windowsill.  
  
"Go ahead," he said with exaggerated resign. "Fill my brain up with knowledge, teach." Inwardly, Spike was delighted that he'd gotten the girl to show a little backbone. Her green eyes flashed when she got mad, and he found himself wanting to ruffle her feathers a bit more. 'Maybe I can get her to even smile,' he mused. He wanted to see the girl from the scrapbook in the flesh.  
  
"You can't learn this stuff if you don't have some passion for art. So, it's gonna take more than me just filling your brain with facts. Now, you give me two weeks, and I will get you loving art!" she exclaimed, and punctuated her statement by pushing him down into a chair. A stunned moment followed, and no one spoke. Spike fought to bite back a smile. 'Meow, kitty's got claws,' he marveled.  
  
Buffy covered her own amusement and picked up a sample. "Okay. What do you see in this picture?" She held up photograph of a painting whose background was all black, but red splotches interspersed sporadically.  
  
Tara squinted at it and asked, "Are you asking what the painter felt when he painted it or what?"  
  
Buffy smiled, "No. The painter's dead; we can't ask him how he felt when he created this. I want to know how you feel about it. Just look at it and say the first thing that comes to mind." Tara stared pensively at the picture and came to a conclusion after a minute.  
  
"Fear," she said resolutely. "Black represents fear and red represents the blood caused by the fear."  
  
Spike guffawed at her answer and Tara's eyes watered.  
  
Buffy scowled at him. "Spike, why don't you tell me what you think it is about," she challenged.  
  
He answered, "Colors. It's black and red."  
  
She snorted, "No, smart ass. What do you feel?"  
  
Spike thought over his answer for a long moment and then replied with fervor, "It reminds me of pain. The red is part your heart and the black is holes that are left in it from pain. From bad experiences."  
  
Buffy smiled, "See? Not so hard. Both of your answers were negative stimuli."  
  
Tara spoke up, wanting to know what the right answer was. "I don't know that there is a right answer, Tara. Everything's subjective."  
  
"Well, what do you feel?" Tara inquired.  
  
Taken aback, Buffy mulled over her answer. "What do I feel? What do I feel? Well, I feel that the red is life and black is nothingness. That life is surrounded by a black hole, that consumes everything you work for and everything you have saved up. That no matter what you do in life, it will all end one day. I see-I see emptiness." She quickly pulled out another picture and showed them, "Now what do you feel?"  
  
They continued on for an hour, looking at various abstract paintings, and discussing their interpretations. Tara realized that she needed to get home early, and so Spike and Buffy were left alone. Buffy found herself feeling uncomfortable without the other girl's presence, and she shifted uneasily in her seat. Spike sensed her unease, and tried to break the silence. "So, uh...what's next, love?" Buffy started, having been lost in her own thoughts about what to do next.  
  
"Oh, um. I don't know. I guess we could go over today's lecture if you want," she suggested.  
  
"Not really, no." Spike leaned back in his chair, his hands behind his head.  
  
"Huh?" Buffy stared at him quizzically.  
  
"I don't want to go over the lecture, pet," he smirked at her, and rocked back and forth in the chair.  
  
Buffy flipped through the folder again, looking for further instructions. "Oh. Well, then I guess..."  
  
"How 'bout we get to know each other a bit? What's your story anyway?" Spike sat forward, bringing the chair legs to the floor with a 'clunk', and leaned on the desk, looking intently at her.  
  
Buffy looked up at him sharply, meeting his eyes. As soon as she did so, she knew that it had been a mistake. She was frozen in time for a moment as she stared into his cerulean orbs. He searched her green ones, and she felt as if he was trying to see through her to her soul. She blinked, then the moment passed, and she sensed her defenses falling into place. "My story? What do you mean?" Spike cursed himself for opening his big mouth. Buffy had seemed relaxed over the past hour, and he had wondered if he could get her to open up to him a little. Unfortunately, his question seemed to have alarmed her, and he could see her closing herself off once again.  
  
"I dunno," he quickly replied, trying to remedy the situation. "Guess I just wanted to be friendly, that's all."  
  
Buffy took a deep breath, trying to swallow the panic that was rising in her chest. "I don't want friends," she said softly.  
  
"Why?" Spike asked, baffled.  
  
"You ask too many questions," Buffy replied. "I just don't, okay?" She shifted her eyes down to her clasped hands. Friends couldn't be counted on, she thought. Not really. Giles was her friend, but he was an adult, and extremely compassionate. People her own age would use her mercilessly and then abandon her when they were done. The girls she had grown up with, that she thought she'd been close with, hadn't really known her at all, and they deserted her when she'd needed them the most. She didn't want to let anyone get that close again.  
  
Spike didn't let her off so easily though. "So, why did you agree to tutor me and Tara?" He tilted his head, studying the effect his questions had on her. Buffy just shrugged her shoulders.  
  
"I agreed to help out," she replied. She raised her eyes, but refused to meet his gaze. "I love art. I enjoy it. It's the only thing lately that makes me happy, and I promised my mom I'd get more involved in school. Besides, if I can pass on my passion for art to someone else, I'll have done something good." Spike didn't respond, he just continued to regard her silently for a few more moments, and her discomfort grew. "That's as much as I'm ever going to tell you about me, okay? So, please, enough with the questions. If you don't want to do any more work today, I'd like to go home," she stated determinedly. Finally, she stared straight at him. "I don't want to become friends. I just want to help you and then become invisible again."  
  
Spike felt a sinking disappointment, but he didn't know why. Even though he wasn't satisfied with her responses, he finally relented. "Fine by me, pet." He glanced at the clock, and the sinking feeling was replaced by a surge of panic as he noted the time. He sprang out of his seat. "Damn! It's almost five, and I told my da I'd be home before then. He's going to kill me!" Spike grabbed up his book bag and his coat.  
  
Buffy was startled by his apprehension, and she stood up as well, gathering her things. "Okay. We can be done. I can tell him I kept you, or...or something," she felt the need to protect him for some reason.  
  
"No need, pet." Spike assured her. "But thanks." He headed for the door, and spoke to her over his shoulder. "You might as well walk with me, since my house is on the way to your place."  
  
"Okay," she replied uncertainly.  
  
"I'm not trying to be 'friends' with you, don't worry," he told her with an affable smirk. "After all, it'll be dark soon, and even though we're not friends, I wouldn't want anything to happen to you." Buffy rolled her eyes at his exaggerated assertions.  
  
"All right, let's go," she said, and headed out the door and down the hallway to the exit with him.  
  
They hurried down the street, not speaking, both with questions about the other swirling around their minds. Spike didn't understand his curiosity, and he knew she would probably bite his head off for what he was about to ask her, but he couldn't help himself.  
  
"Buffy?" He said tentatively.  
  
"Yeah?" Buffy didn't turn to look at him, not wanting to get lost in his eyes again.  
  
Spike hesitated a moment and then said, "I'm going to ask you another question, and I promise I don't mean any harm by it," Buffy spun her head over to him at that and raised an eyebrow. "Why–why don't you like people to touch you?" Spike flinched in mock apprehension of her attack on his person, and Buffy surprised herself when she realized she was suppressing a smile. She thought a moment, and replied,  
  
"Because if you touched me, I would have to use my self defense. And I am quite strong, so I don't want to hurt you." She found herself laughing when she saw his eyebrows shoot up and his jaw drop. Spike thrilled to the sound of her giggles, and his heart warmed at the thought that he'd been the cause, however unwittingly. He resolved then and there, that despite her 'no friends' rule, he'd try to coax more laughter out of her every day. Her chuckles petered out, and when he smiled back at her, and she sobered. Disappointed, yet still determined, he spied his house up ahead, and slowed his pace.  
  
"Well, love, this is my stop," he said, halting at the front walk of his house. "Your place is only a block over from here, so you don't have too far to go." He stared down at her, reluctant to let her go, but he knew she wouldn't come into his house if he invited her. That was probably for the best, he thought, since he was never sure what kind of a temper his father would be in. "Same time tomorrow?"  
  
"Yeah, I guess so." She replied, suddenly uncomfortable again.  
  
"Well, in I go then," Spike muttered awkwardly, and he turned and walked up to the door and let himself in. Buffy stood and watched him disappear, and turned to leave, when she heard a loud crash, and a sharp yell of protest from Spike.  
  
Another voice, which Buffy presumed to belong to Spike's father screamed "Bloody fucking hell, boy! I tell you to be home before five, and you bloody well better be here!" Aghast at the vicious tone the man used she stood frozen on the sidewalk, her eyes wide. She heard Spike respond,  
  
"It's only ten after, and I had to stay–"  
  
"Don't you talk back to me, you smarmy little cock-up. Do you want me to bash your head in?" Not wanting to hear anymore, Buffy ran the rest of the way home. She'd go and tell her mom, or Giles, she thought as she entered the building breathlessly. She rushed to the elevators, and waited impatiently for one to arrive. 'Giles will know what to do,' Buffy told herself. When she finally got to her apartment, she flung her book bag aside, and called for her mother. Not hearing an answer, she bolted out the door and down the hallway to Giles' door. She knocked frantically, calling his name, but no reply came. Dazed, Buffy slowly walked back to her own door, her mind racing. Should she have stayed there, she wondered. What could she have done, though? Maybe it was nothing, she thought, letting herself back in to her home. Maybe his father's bark was worse than his bite, so to speak and he just yelled a lot. That notion quelled her fears a little, and she decided to wait it out for now and started on her homework. She was a little worn out though, and halfway through reading a chapter in her social studies book, she dozed off. 


	7. chapter 7

Joyce Summers came home around six o'clock, exhausted. She'd had to stay an extra hour working inventory at the museum. It wasn't among her favorite activities, but if she wanted to buy a space for a gallery soon, she'd have to clock some additional hours to get a raise. She smiled when she spied Buffy asleep on the couch, her schoolbook resting open on her chest. Putting down her purse, she crept over to her daughter, and gingerly removed the book and placed it on the side table. Buffy stirred, and opened one eye, peering at her mother.  
  
"Hey sleepy girl," Joyce crooned.  
  
"Hey mom, how was your day?" Buffy asked groggily.  
  
"It was tiresome, but it'll be worth it," Joyce sighed. "Come on, honey, you shouldn't be napping now, you'll never get to sleep tonight. How was school today?" Joyce took hold of her daughter's hand, and pulled her to a sitting position. Buffy's mind was still fuzzy from napping so early in the evening, and she had a niggling feeling that she had something important to tell her mother, but she couldn't think of what it was. Buffy opened her mouth, but Joyce interrupted her. "Oh, hold that thought, honey, I've got to run to the 'loo' as they say," she said with a grin, and headed out of the room. Buffy stood, reeling a little from a head rush, and heard her mother speaking from down the hall. "What are you in the mood for dinner tonight? I was thinking we might go out."  
  
"I dunno, let me think," she replied and stretched. She started to walk to the kitchen, when a loud knock at the door stopped her. "There's someone at the door, mom! I'll get it!" she yelled, and she sleepily made her way to the door. What she saw when she opened it caused her to wake up instantly.  
  
Spike stood in the hallway. Both of his eyes were swollen and bruised, and a cut on his cheek was oozing blood. His lip was also cut, and his clothes were disheveled. Buffy gaped at him a moment before she spoke.  
  
"Spike, oh my God, what happened to you?" she whispered.  
  
"Had an accident. Have you seen Rupert?" he replied, avoiding her eyes.  
  
Buffy frowned at his evasiveness. "No, I knocked at his door earlier, but he didn't answer. Why? Is he still not there? Do you need some help?"  
  
A look of panic flashed across his features. "No, I'm fine, just thought I'd try over here. I'll just go then," he turned to go, but Buffy impulsively grabbed his arm and stopped him.  
  
"Spike, what really happened?" she asked, knowing she wouldn't get an answer.  
  
He spun around angrily, and took her by the shoulders, shaking her aggressively. Buffy gasped in shock at the cold fury in his expression. Her lip began to tremble and he growled at her. "Nothing is bloody wrong, just leave it!"  
  
Buffy winced when his hands tightened their grip painfully, and her eyes filled. Seeing her frightened tears, Spike woke out of his rage, and softened. He loosened his grip and slid his hands down her arms. "No. No. Don't bloody cry, please." Buffy stood rooted to the spot, eyeing him warily. Spike dropped his arms and said, "Look, I'm sorry to have scared you–"  
  
"Buffy?" Joyce's voice cut him off, and he tensed. "Who's at the door?" Spike stepped closer to her and whispered,  
  
"You never saw me. Just forget this." He turned and ran down the hall to the stair exit and disappeared. Buffy, shaken, shut the door quietly, and blinked the tears away and turned to face her mother, who had just come up behind her. She shrugged in a way she hoped was nonchalant.  
  
"No one, just a Jehovah's Witness," she told her. Joyce looked puzzled.  
  
"A Jehovah's Witness?" she asked, and Buffy nodded. "How'd he get in the building?" Buffy shrugged again and rapidly changed the subject.  
  
"So, Italian tonight? Or Indian?"  
  
Joyce was perplexed by her daughter's behavior all through dinner. She was quiet, which wasn't all that unusual, although she had become more lively and talkative of late. She wasn't depressed or moody, but she seemed to have something on her mind. Joyce questioned her briefly, but Buffy evaded her and told her about her teacher asking her to tutor some students in art, and how she had started that day. Joyce was very pleased by this news, and she secretly hoped that this would help Buffy to open up to new friendships. They still hadn't found a therapist that Buffy felt comfortable with; she was still gun-shy from her experience with Mrs. Slander. Joyce clenched her jaw at the thought of what that woman had done to her daughter. She was furious even a month after the incident, and she wanted to take some sort of action to see that the appalling counselor lost her position at the school. Joyce Summers was not a vengeful person by nature, but Mrs. Slander had no business counseling vulnerable young people. Giles was in total agreement with her, and he'd promised to help her in this endeavor.  
  
Joyce felt so grateful that she and Buffy had such a friend in Rupert Giles. He was a truly wonderful man, and she wished that her ex-husband had those same qualities she'd needed in a husband and Buffy needed in a father. Joyce blinked, startled at the thought she'd just had. Yes, Rupert would make a good husband, she thought, and flushed. He was certainly a very attractive man, and he was someone she could easily see herself settling down with, but she had no intention of looking for a new husband or even a boyfriend just yet. She and Buffy were still getting accustomed to their new life, and Buffy was her first priority. For now, Joyce could be content with just being good friends with Rupert. 'Besides,' she mused, 'who knows what the future will bring?' She prayed silently for only good things as she gazed at her daughter lovingly.  
  
For Buffy's part, she had of course been preoccupied with Spike's predicament. She felt fairly certain that his dad had beat him up, but she didn't know what, if anything she should do about it. He had been furious that she had pried into his business, and she really couldn't blame him for that. After all, she herself was loath to talk to anyone about her troubles, resenting anyone who questioned her, and here she was sticking her nose where it didn't belong. But she couldn't just do nothing, could she? Even though she didn't want to be friends with anyone, least of all Spike, she didn't want to stand by while he was being abused. She noted her mother's concern that something was bothering her, and she thought perhaps she should tell her about the evening's events, but stopped herself, remembering how he had told her not to tell anyone about what she had seen. He probably didn't know that she'd heard his father yelling at him, so maybe he thought she was under the impression that he'd gotten into a fight with another boy.  
  
Buffy sighed, and decided not to think about the situation for now. She distracted her mother by telling her about her tutoring in art, but Spike's plight remained in the back of her mind all through dinner and the walk home. She was tired when they got back to the apartment, but at last, she'd come to the decision to speak with Giles about Spike. She didn't want to anger Spike, after all, she had no right to interfere, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something needed to be done.  
  
She told her mother that she was going over to Giles' apartment for a few minutes, and headed down the hallway. Buffy stood in front of his door, her fist raised to knock, when she hesitated. Biting her lip, she wavered in her resolution to talk to Giles. Maybe Spike had already seen him; maybe he was already in there, and was being taken care of, and she would only embarrass him by walking in on him. She wondered if Giles was aware of the situation, after all, he was Spike's uncle. He was probably doing something about it as she stood there debating with herself.  
  
Then again, even though Spike had been looking for Giles, perhaps he hadn't found him yet, and had gone home to his father to get yet another beating. Buffy rubbed her temples with her fingers; her head was starting to ache from all the indecision. She took a deep breath, and just knocked. And waited. Giles didn't come to the door, and Buffy was mystified. Usually, if Giles were going to be away, he let Buffy and her mother know. He'd been at school that day. She waited a moment longer, and then walked back to her own apartment. If he was at school tomorrow, and she didn't know why he wouldn't be, she'd speak to him when she had her free period in the library. Her dilemma resolved for the time being, she let herself in the door, sat down on the couch next to her mother, and started on her homework. 


	8. chapter 8

Spike wasn't at school the next day, and neither was Giles. A substitute teacher was overseeing the library, and Buffy felt at a loss. She didn't know if she should approach his friends, and ask about him. After all, she didn't really know them well, and even though she met with Tara after school, when she'd casually asked her where Spike was, Tara really didn't seem to know.  
  
Giles remained absent for two more days, but Spike did return to school having missed only one day. His face was less swollen, and he sported a bandage over his cut cheek. He didn't speak to anyone outside of his circle of friends, and during the tutoring session, Buffy found him closed off and indifferent to their discussion on Picasso's Blue Period. At ten minutes to five, when the lesson would be over, she told them of an idea she had that might help them.  
  
"I was thinking that maybe you guys would want to take a trip to The British Museum tomorrow instead of working in here. They're showing a special exhibition of Picasso's work, so it fits right in with what we're working on, plus my Mom works there, and she can give us the tour." Buffy paused, waiting for an affirmative response from Spike and Tara. Tara looked interested, but she told Buffy she had dance class after school tomorrow and couldn't go. "Well, maybe if Spike can go tomorrow with me, you and I can go another time," Buffy suggested. "My Mom could be a real big help. She used to own a gallery back home, and as soon as she can find a space, she's going to open up one here," Buffy beamed proudly, thinking of her strong, resourceful mother.  
  
"That sounds good to me," said Tara. "I'll let you know when I'm free." Buffy nodded, and looked at Spike. He seemed lost in thought, and when Tara nudged him, he started.  
  
"Yeah, I can meet you there around half three," he said. "Got to run off now, though, sorry." Spike picked up his duster and bag, and left the room. The two girls looked at each other, startled by his abrupt departure.  
  
"So, Spike looks a little worse for wear," Buffy commented awkwardly to Tara.  
  
"Yeah. I don't know what happened." The blond girl replied. "He hasn't said much, but-" Tara cut herself off suddenly. She stood, realizing she shouldn't say anything. Tara wasn't terribly close to Spike, having transferred to the school only a few months before Buffy arrived. She'd made friends with Willow instantly, and had gotten to know the other members of their 'clan', but she wasn't a recipient of anyone's confidences except for Willow's. At first, she had felt very left out of the group's doings, even though she was always invited. However, she knew it would take time to really become thick with all of them, especially Spike. He was friendly and quick with a joke, but he rarely shared himself with anyone, and Tara suspected a deep-seated hurt was the cause. In any case, she had become friends with them all, and they all genuinely liked her in return.  
  
Buffy, however, was feeling overly curious, and she prodded Tara to continue. Tara spoke haltingly. "Well, I don't know much, but I know this isn't the first time I've seen him looking like he'd been on the fat end of a baseball bat," she said, and chewed on her lip, as they made their way to the school exit.  
  
Buffy debated whether or not to reveal what she'd heard at his house, and the events that followed. Before she could reach a decision, though, Tara asked Buffy which way she was headed.  
  
"Oh, I live over on Hyde Park Square," Buffy replied.  
  
Tara, disappointed, told her "I'm going the opposite way, unfortunately. I was thinking maybe you'd like to come over for a little while, and my aunt could give you a ride home." Tara smiled at Buffy hopefully. She liked her, and she didn't understand why she hadn't made friends with anyone. She empathized with Buffy's shyness, and wanted to reach out to her.  
  
Buffy felt uneasy. Her resolve to stay invisible had slowly been crumbling, and she liked Tara a lot. She was easy to talk to and had a warm, sincere quality that stirred something deep inside Buffy, making her long for the companionship of a girl her age. The unwillingness to be vulnerable and risk the pain of betrayal that friendship sometimes brings held her back, however, and she hesitated before answering Tara, not wanting to hurt her feelings.  
  
"I, uh, I don't think I can." Buffy stammered, unable to look the girl in the eye. "Thank you, though, for asking." She risked a glance at Tara, and saw her face fall in dismay.  
  
"Oh, that's okay, I understand." Tara, hurt, started to turn away, but Buffy felt a stab of guilt and stopped her.  
  
"Oh, Tara, please don't be hurt," she pleaded. "It's just–" Buffy broke off, unsure of what to say. "I've had some–some bad things–happen and, I–I'm not ready." Buffy heard herself whisper, "It just hurts too much."  
  
Tara turned back around to face Buffy, her eyes still carried an injured look, but they also shone in sympathy. "Everyone's been hurt, Buffy, in one way or another." She took a few steps towards the brunette, who was now holding back tears. "People hurt each other, friends betray friends, and yes, it's painful." Tara gently placed her hand on Buffy's shoulder, and the girl tensed, but did not pull away. "But even though you go through bad times, you can find good, true friends who will stick by you no matter what. That's worth any kind of pain you have to go through. In the long run, you'll hurt yourself more by shutting people out."  
  
"I guess," Buffy whispered. "But I had friends before. I thought they were my friends, but they didn't know me. They weren't there for me when I needed them." Buffy raised her tear-filled eyes to Tara's.  
  
"And you thought maybe you just weren't good enough?" Tara asked in understanding. "I've been there. But it sounds like you just picked the wrong people to be friends with. That happens. I think you'll find though, that the world holds an inordinate amount of people, and they're all different. Not everyone will abandon you."  
  
Buffy offered a shaky smile. "I'm sorry, Tara. Maybe someday I'll be ready to open up, but right now, I just want to hide." Tara nodded, accepting that her fear wouldn't dissipate overnight, just because she'd given her a pep talk.  
  
"I know it'll take some time," she replied, letting her hand drop from Buffy's shoulder. "Whenever you're ready, just let us know. Me, Willow, Xander, we'd all love to get to know you." Tara grinned impishly. "I don't know about Oz, though. He's not all that communicative, but I think you'd like him."  
  
Buffy didn't know what possessed her, but she stared down at her feet and asked shyly, "What about Spike? He keeps asking me questions." Tara giggled, and Buffy let out a small hiccup that sounded like a laugh.  
  
"Well, Spike is Spike," she answered. "He's in a class by himself."  
  
Buffy snorted and rolled her eyes. "I'll say."  
  
Tara laughed. "I'm sure he has his reasons." She smiled, and bit back any further comment.  
  
Buffy took a deep breath and smiled back at Tara. "Thanks, Tara. I–I hope I didn't offend you. I guess I just need time," she said, and Tara smiled sympathetically.  
  
"That's okay, Buffy. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" Buffy nodded. A silent moment passed, and the girls finally said goodbye and parted ways.  
  
As she slowly made her way home, Buffy thought over what Tara had said. She knew the girl was right; her mother was trying to encourage her, without pushing, to make new friends. Unfortunately, Buffy didn't know how to find the kind of friends she could count on. Giles was a unique connection. He was someone she and her mother instinctively trusted, and in the short amount of time they'd known him, he'd proved himself worthy of their esteem. Tara seemed like she would be a good person to have in her corner, and she'd liked Willow when she'd met her on her first day of school, but she couldn't bring herself to trust anyone. After all, she'd thought that the girls she'd grown up with were her bosom buddies, but the truth was that they didn't know any sort of loyalty. Their parents ran in the same circles and belonged to the same country club. It wasn't closeness, it was just a convenience. Buffy found this out the first day she'd come back to school following the rape. She'd been so distraught hearing all the whispers in the hallways that she'd hidden in a bathroom stall, crying. She'd hoped to run into Cordelia and Harmony, who had offered their support over the phone when she'd called them the night before. Having them flank her would have made her feel more up to the challenge of facing her schoolmates. When she heard them enter the bathroom, she jumped for joy, and prepared to exit the stall, until she heard what they were talking about so cattily.  
  
"...I can't believe she's come back here," she heard Harmony say. "I wouldn't want to show my face if I were her."  
  
"Well, just thank whatever higher power you believe in that you're not her." Cordelia replied. Buffy peered at them through the crack between the stall and the door. They were at the mirror, fixing their makeup and hair. "I mean, stupid much? Going to a secluded place with your drunk boyfriend, no matter how lunchable he is, just leads to a big, episode of badness." She capped her lipstick, tossed it into her makeup bag, and rummaged through it for her tweezers.  
  
"Oh, uh yeah, totally," Harmony responded with unconvincing surety. "I would never do something so brainless." She blanched when she saw the disbelieving look Cordy was giving her.  
  
"Harmony, please. Let's not get started, shall we?" Cordy rolled her eyes at her blond friend's discomfiture. "What I'm saying, is that Buffy is way too naïve for her own good. He's been cheating on her for the past month with some slut he goes to college with."  
  
Harmony gasped, and dropped her hairbrush. "How do you know?"  
  
"Because, duh, I was at a party up at UCLA and I saw him crawling all over this blond bimbo named Darla. He wasn't getting any from Buffy, which drove him crazy, so he had to get it somewhere." Cordy lowered her voice conspiratorially. "But I heard Darla dumped him when she found out about his high school sweetheart, and that really sent him over the edge of sanity."  
  
Buffy squeezed her eyes shut, hoping she was having yet another nightmare, and she wasn't really hearing two of her friends discussing the most traumatic thing to ever happen to her so casually. Unfortunately, she was wide-awake, and she could only listen in secret as Cordy and Harmony's conversation continued.  
  
"...anyway, he's also a total psycho. He did the same thing to another girl back when he was in high school." Buffy heard Cordy say.  
  
"What, he cheated on another girlfriend?" Harmony could always be depended upon to ask stupid questions. Cordy sighed profoundly, and rolled her eyes to the heavens.  
  
"Why me?" she pleaded with the cosmos. "No, 'brainy', he raped a girl in high school," Cordy whispered the dread word as if she was afraid of being struck by lightening. "Do I have to go all Lifetime TV for you?"  
  
"Oh," breathed Harmony, wide-eyed. "So what happened?"  
  
"I don't know. I guess it got all hushed up, since he was 'the big star' of Sunnydale." Cordy plopped all her make-up supplies back in her bag. "Of course, I only just heard about that after what happened with Buffy, or else I totally would have warned her off him." Harmony nodded in understanding.  
  
"So what do we do? I so don't want to deal with all the crap she's gonna get from people," Harmony whined as she mimicked Cordy's primping in the mirror.  
  
"Oh, neither do I," came the vehement reply. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I feel bad for her," Cordy emphasized her point with a hand over her heart. "But I just can't afford to have an 'object of negative curiosity' for a friend right now." She tossed her book bag over her shoulder and fluffed her mane of dark hair.  
  
Buffy stood, silently weeping, as she realized the rest of her 'friends' would follow Cordelia's lead, and slowly but surely, cut her out of their lives. When she heard the two girls finally exit the bathroom, she let out a frustrated sob and left the stall. "I won't give them the chance to blow me off," she growled to her reflection. She stayed true to that resolution as she went through the rest of her time at Sunnydale High. In her classes, she bypassed her usual seats by the 'Cordettes' and she skipped lunch every day, choosing instead to munch on a piece of fruit in the art room while she pretended to work on a painting.  
  
The experience had taught her a harsh, but valuable lesson: she could only really depend on herself. She had her mother, and she had Giles but they couldn't always be there for her. Taking a deep breath, she walked the rest of the way home, her memories making her determined to remain as solitary as possible.  
  
The next afternoon, Buffy made her way to Spike's house, perplexed, and a little bit annoyed. She'd confirmed with him after class that day that they would meet at the museum at three-thirty. She'd arrived ten minutes early so she could have her mother come down and let them in for free. Joyce was pleased that Buffy was making an effort to spend time with kids her age after school, and Buffy didn't have the heart to remind her that the only reason she was doing so, was because of the tutoring. They'd waited about twenty minutes, since they thought perhaps Spike had gotten waylaid after his last class. After forty minutes of waiting, Buffy realized that Spike wasn't going to show up. Joyce had been very disappointed, and Buffy decided to stop by his house to see if he'd gone home instead of meeting her. She felt like she ought to give him a piece of her mind for ditching her, but a feeling in her gut told her that something was wrong.  
  
When she got to his door, she suddenly felt uneasy. She couldn't explain why, except for the reason that she'd never been to his house before, and the time she'd dropped him off, there'd been an altercation. She pushed the button for the doorbell, but didn't hear a corresponding ring, so she rapped on the door and waited. No one called out or came to the door, so she knocked again, this time a little louder. No answer came, and her heart started to pound. Without thinking that she was intruding, she reached for the doorknob, and turned it; it was unlocked. Buffy tentatively pushed the door open, and stepped inside, not bothering to close it in case she needed to make a hasty exit.  
  
"Spike?" she called out cautiously, looking around the foyer. As before, she didn't hear an answer, so she rounded a corner into what appeared to be the living room. It took a moment for her brain to process the state of disarray the room was in. Two chairs had been overturned, and a suitcase lay open on the floor, its contents scattered. A floor lamp lay on its side, the glass shade crushed. Behind the tattered sofa, Buffy spied an outstretched arm.  
  
"Spike?" she whispered, stepping over the debris to see whose arm it was. She trembled, terrified of what she would find, and a hoarse cry escaped her throat when she saw Spike's prone and bruised form on the floor. He was unconscious, and bleeding from several places. His left arm lay at an awkward angle, as if it were broken.  
  
"Oh my God, Spike!" she exclaimed, and ran over to crouch down beside him, unsure of what to do. At last, she felt for a pulse at his throat. She sobbed in relief when the strong beat of his heart registered through her fingers, and she shot up, her eyes frantically searching for a telephone. She spotted it across the room, and dashed over to pick up the receiver. In her panic, she froze, trying to remember Giles' home phone number. When the information finally revealed itself, she dialed, and anxiously waited for him to pick up. She prayed he was home. She didn't know where he was, since he hadn't shown up for school again today, and wasn't in his apartment when she'd stopped by the night before.  
  
At length, he answered and she wildly informed him of her discovery. Giles didn't speak for a moment, and then she heard him say, "Bloody hell! Damn Rick, damn him!" Buffy jumped at the fury with which he uttered these words. "Don't move him, Buffy. Stay right there, I'll be over in an instant!" The line went dead, and Buffy rushed back over to Spike's side. Hesitatingly, she smoothed his matted curls away from his forehead, revealing a nasty gash. The blood in her veins jumped at the sight, but she continued to stroke his hair and uttered soothing nonsense to him. He'd flinched and groaned at the contact initially, but when she tenderly caressed his face, he leaned into her touch, and nuzzled her hand.  
  
Buffy held back tears as she waited for Giles. For the moment, she'd forgotten all of her own fears and reservations, and concentrated on the insensible boy before her. She regretted not having said anything about the other night when he'd come to her door, battered and looking for Giles. She was certain his father had done this, and she blamed her own sense of self- preservation for keeping her silent. Buffy hadn't wanted to get involved, and if she had, Spike might not have gotten so hurt. Her vision started to blur, when she heard a noise at the front of the house, and her heart jumped to her throat. Had his father returned? She sagged with relief when she saw Giles enter the room.  
  
"Over here," her voice was a low croak, but Giles heard, and hurried over. He took one look at Spike and the fury she'd perceived in his voice earlier was evident in his expression. He marched over to the phone, and called for an ambulance. When he hung up, he wearily walked back over to Buffy and Spike, and slowly knelt down next to them, taking off his glasses. Buffy had a million questions on her tongue, none of which she could give voice to. Giles didn't look at her, and didn't touch her; he stared at his nephew with tears in his eyes, muttering, "I'm sorry, William, I'm sorry," over and over.  
  
When the ambulance arrived, and the paramedics hauled Spike into the vehicle on a stretcher, Giles turned to Buffy before climbing inside behind him.  
  
"I think you should go home now, Buffy. I'm sure your mother's there by now, and she'll be wondering where you are."  
  
Buffy felt disappointed that Giles didn't seem to want her to accompany them, but she understood. She nodded faintly, and turned to go, when she suddenly stopped, and ran back to her friend as he started to climb into the ambulance.  
  
Grabbing his arm, she stared up into his face, her big green eyes shining with tears. "Could-could my mom and I come to the hospital later? I just want to make sure Spike's going to be okay." Giles smiled at his young friend, touched by her concern.  
  
"I'm sure he'll be all right, Buffy. I'm not sure you'll be able to see him tonight, though. I'll call you when he's been examined, alright?" He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, and clambered into the waiting ambulance. Buffy watched them drive away until they disappeared around a corner, then turned and headed slowly toward home, angry at herself for letting her selfishness rule her. 


	9. chapter 9

Spike woke up, groggy with painkillers to see his uncle snoozing in a chair next to his bed. Not realizing he was in the hospital, he wondered internally, "Why the buggery is Rupes sitting in my room? And since when do I have a telly bolted on my wall?" He looked around the room blearily, searching for the posters of The Sex Pistols and The Clash he'd put up two years ago. He attempted to sit up, trying to move his dominant arm to support him, when he noticed said arm was in a cast in a sling, and therefore, immobile.  
  
"Bloody hell!" he exclaimed as he finally took in his surroundings, which startled Giles from his slumber with a snort.  
  
"Oh, er- sorry, drifted off there, for a moment, what time is it?" Giles blinked and looked around for the nurse he'd been conversing with a moment ago. He noticed the room was flooded in daylight, which was odd, since it was past midnight when his nephew had been transferred from the emergency unit to a regular hospital bed. Embarrassed that he'd fallen asleep in the middle of a conversation, he snatched his glasses from the bedside table, and noticed Spike was awake, and staring at him in consternation.  
  
"Oh, hullo, Will. You're up," he stated cheerfully.  
  
"Yes, and apparently, I'm in a sodding hospital," he said snappishly. "What the hell am I doing here, Rupert?"  
  
Giles extended his hand towards Spike in what he hoped was a calming gesture, and encouraged him to lie back down in the bed. "Now, don't get yourself worked up, Will, er, Spike. Yes you're in a hospital, but you're going to be just fine, so don't worry."  
  
Spike gulped nervously. He hated hospitals. They reeked of nothing but sickness and death. When his mum had been ill, he'd gone in and out of these places, his anxiety and the stress over her condition wearing him down to a hollow shell by the time it was finished. His mind strained to recall the events that caused him to land here.  
  
"Can't remember," he muttered, shaking his head. "When did I get here?" He stared straight ahead, racking his brain while he listened to Giles' response.  
  
"I believe Buffy found you around four in the afternoon yesterday-" Spike whirled his head to look at Giles, instantly regretting the dizziness the movement caused. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting off nausea.  
  
"Buffy?" He asked once the feeling passed. "What did she have to-"  
  
"I spoke to her after the ambulance brought you in and Joyce told me you were to meet her at the museum. When you didn't show, Buffy went by your house to round you up. The door was unlocked so, she let herself in, and..." Giles trailed off, letting his nephew fill in the blanks.  
  
Spike sat up slowly again, his memory jarred. "I'd gone back," he whispered. "I was going to grab some of my stuff to take to your place, and I was almost out the door when Da came home." Spike ran his hand through his hair, trying to cover up his distress at the memories of his raving, drunken father.  
  
Giles sighed regretfully. "I thought as much," he replied softly. "I suppose there's no use asking it now, but why didn't you get me to come with you?" He leaned forward, wanting to understand the boy's denial that he'd needed any help.  
  
"Dunno," Spike mumbled. "Didn't think he'd be home for a while, I guess. He's usually out until six at the pubs. Thought I had some time, and then I'd go meet Buffy." He toyed with a loose thread on his sling. "How long am I in here for?" He inquired as if determining a prison sentence.  
  
Giles put a comforting hand on Spike's shoulder. "I think they'll let you out after one more day," he replied, and at the boy's disgruntled groan he emphasized, "one more day for observation to make sure you don't have any severe head trauma, and then you'll be released into my custody." This wasn't news to either of them, since they'd decided a few days ago that Spike would move in with his uncle permanently. On the night that Spike had shown up at Buffy's door, beaten and bloody, he'd gone through the main exit as Giles was entering. One look at his nephew, and Giles was ready to march over to Rick's and beat the bloody tar out of him, but Spike told him he had had enough, and was ready to fulfill his mother's request that Giles take guardianship of him.  
  
Giles had spent the next few days working out the legalities of the situation while Spike stayed in the apartment recovering. Giles had insisted that Spike refrain from returning to his father's house to retrieve his belongings until Giles could accompany him. He knew that if Rick caught Spike alone, suitcase in hand, the results would be dire, and he'd been right. His nephew had been beaten senseless, and though his injuries were not life threatening, the damage they'd left would outlast any physical scars.  
  
"I know you won't like this, Will, but I had to notify the authorities, and they've arrested Rick," he held up a hand before Spike could protest. "I had no choice in the matter. You were unconscious with a gash in your head and a broken arm, and you're a minor; the hospital staff has to make inquiries, and the police must be told when a law is broken. I know he's your father, but Will, think what could happen if he's left to his own devices. He could come after you, and this time not leave you alive!" Giles finished his outburst, and stood up to pace. Spike stayed quiet for a moment and looked up, a question on his mind.  
  
"Where did Buffy go, after they took me here?"  
  
Giles turned, startled by the change of subject. "Hm? Oh, I sent her home. She wanted to come see you with her mother, to check on you. She was very distressed, though, so I thought it best that she go home."  
  
Spike was surprised, to say the least, by Buffy's concern for him. He had thought she generally despised him, but he supposed anyone who found a person in the condition he'd been in would be anxious afterwards. Giles stepped closer to Spike's bed, his face revealing the weariness he felt after the events of the evening before. "I honestly don't know what would have happened if- if Buffy hadn't found you when she did," Giles said pointedly to his nephew. "I shudder to think about it." He stared out the small window, his glasses in his hand as he tiredly pinched the bridge of his nose.  
  
Spike frowned, not comprehending his uncle's anguish. "I'd have been all right, Rupes, yeah? I mean, a little worse for wear, but-"  
  
"Who knows how long you would have lain there, unconscious and losing blood from a head wound?" Giles cut in forcefully. "Every minute you stayed that way brought you closer to being in a coma and resulting in brain damage." The librarian tried to cover the break in his voice as his mind whirled with how close he came to losing his nephew. He focused his gaze on the boy, his expression serious. "We owe Buffy a great deal of gratitude for what she did." He held Spike's blue eyes with his own for a moment, then placed his glasses back on his face and moved closer to the bed, putting a shaking hand on Spike's shoulder, giving it a meaningful squeeze. He squashed the impulse to embrace him, thinking the boy was in too much pain now, and would probably feel embarrassed by the affection.  
  
Spike averted his eyes to his lap, grasping his uncle's meaning. Although he knew that Buffy would most likely be even shyer around him than usual, he realized he needed to thank her. But, thanks didn't seem like enough for her actions, and his conscience urged him to make a concentrated effort to draw her out, and become her friend, despite her protestations that she didn't want any. He felt a slight tug in his heart, thinking about the tiny girl with the huge green eyes full of fear and pain. A sense of protectiveness filled him and he found himself wanting to take that pain away from her. He looked up at Giles, whose hand still rested warmly on his left shoulder, and he tentatively placed his right hand over the older man's. He looked up at his uncle with a shaky smile.  
  
"I'll do right by her, Rupes. I promise."  
  
Spike was checked out of the hospital the following day, painkiller prescription and suitcases in hand. He was installed in his Uncle Rupert's apartment with strict orders to take it easy for the remainder of the week and over the weekend as well. Giles salvaged the rest of Spike's belongings from the former home of his father. Rick had been arrested on charges of child abuse, and was due to stand trial in four weeks' time. Spike wasn't thrilled about having to testify, but he felt reassured when his uncle told him it wouldn't be like the court scenes on the telly. In all likelihood, he'd give his testimony in a closed courtroom without his father present.  
  
Spike stayed in the apartment, not venturing out even to pay the Summers women a visit. He was unsure of what he wanted to say to Buffy when he next saw her, and he found he was extremely nervous about it. He'd given her a hard time when she'd first arrived, and he was pretty sure she didn't like him much. That thought depressed him somewhat, and he kicked himself whenever the feeling threatened to overcome him. He saw no reason why he should get into such a state over the chit, after all. Sure, she was attractive, and he felt all big and manly next to her diminutive form, but he wasn't about to fall at her feet. He tried to chalk his apprehension up to an embarrassing sense of gratitude, but a feeling deep down inside him knew better. Despite his callous attitude, she'd intrigued him from the first, and each time he gleaned something new about her like seeing the old photographs, hearing her laugh or listening to her talk about art with such passion, he became more and more drawn to her.  
  
When he returned to school the following Monday, Spike sought her out between afternoon lessons. He felt more confident that he wouldn't stammer or lose composure if others were present. He found her at her locker after lunch, pulling out the books for her next classes. Standing behind her, he raised a hand to tap her on the shoulder, when he remembered how jumpy she was about touching, so he stepped around to face her. Sensing his presence, Buffy looked up from stuffing her history book in her bag, and her eyes widened when she saw him. He watched as her eyes flashed surprise and relief at seeing him, then regret, and then the wall came up, and he couldn't read her emotions any longer.  
  
"Hey, Summers. Uh, I mean Buffy," he started, suddenly feeling as if he were ten years old and in need of a Valentine.  
  
Buffy zipped her book bag shut, and slung it over her shoulder. "Hey," she replied softly. "How are you feeling?" She eyed his left arm in its plaster cast, supported by the sling around his neck. She felt a twinge of guilt, but suppressed it, trying not to focus on herself.  
  
"I've been better," Spike answered good-naturedly. "Have to write with my right hand, but I've never been one to back down from a challenge." He smirked down at her, but she continued to stare blankly at him. He cleared his throat and glanced down at his feet to gather his thoughts. "Listen, Buffy. I- I just wanted to say thanks. You know, for what you did and all." He shifted his weight awkwardly, and blew out his breath to relieve the tension.  
  
"I didn't really do anything," Buffy objected. "I should have, but I didn't." She struggled to maintain her self-possession, but that wall was slowly crumbling. Spike looked up, hearing the tremulousness in her voice, and frowned in puzzlement.  
  
"I don't know what you mean, Buffy, but you bloody well did do something," Spike insisted.  
  
Buffy sighed, and looked down. Obviously, he wanted to get this obligation he thought he owed her off his chest, so she figured she should at least let him do that. "Okay, well...you're, um, welcome-" she was cut off by the arrival of one of the upperclassmen that dealt her a dose of torment for her shyness every now and then. The boy, named Parker, sported an earring and a ponytail, and leaned onto the locker behind Spike, smirking.  
  
"Hey, Spike!" Parker clapped a hand on Spike's good shoulder, and the blond turned, startled and annoyed by the disturbance.  
  
"What do you want, Abrams? I'm busy here," he gestured to Buffy who was tugging at a loose thread on her sleeve, as if the activity required her full attention.  
  
"Oh, Summers. Didn't see you there." Parker let out an obnoxious chortle, and then turned back to Spike. "Some of the lads and me are gonna play a spot of rugby after school in the park. Want to join?"  
  
Spike rolled his eyes in exasperation. "In case you haven't noticed, pillock, I've got a broken arm. The condition doesn't exactly lend itself to playing rough sports right now mate. Besides, like I said, I'm talking to Buffy, so piss off."  
  
Parker grinned in sardonic amusement. "Summers talks? I didn't know that!" He stepped out from behind Spike to stand beside Buffy, and stared down at her derisively. He feigned contemplation, and put a hand to his chin. "Oh, that's right, you do talk, don't you? Spike told me your catch phrase. What was it? 'Don't touch me'? Right, you're the 'Don't Touch Me Freak'!" Parker burst into laughter, when Buffy's head snapped up, her eyes glaring at Spike in shock and accusation. Parker turned back to the bleached blond. "Who came up with that name, Spike; you or Xander? I can't remember what you told me."  
  
Filled with indignation, Spike glowered at the chortling Parker, and growled. "Shut your gob, you twit!" he hissed, and shoved him backwards in order to pull Buffy away from the scene, but she was gone. He scanned the hallway for her, finally spotting her striding angrily around the corner and out of sight. He clenched his right fist, wanting to pound Parker into next Tuesday, but instead he threw the idiot a withering glare, and started after Buffy to explain.  
  
"Oh, come on, Spike!" Parker called out after him. "What's got your knickers in a twist today?" Spike ignored him and racked his brain, trying to think of where Buffy was headed. He eventually found her in the art room, paintbrush and pallet in hand. She was standing in front of a blank canvas, glaring at it. Seeing her angry expression, he winced when it occurred to him that she was possibly contemplating painting an unflattering portrait of him. Possibly something involving disembowelment. He approached her cautiously.  
  
"Go away, Spike," she spat out softly, and he jumped.  
  
"Look Buffy, I'm sorry about that, okay?" His apology sounded a lot whinier than he'd intended it to. She closed her eyes and sighed, and he continued. "I did call you that, but-" he blanched at the murderous look in her eyes at his admission. "Well, that was before I knew you, and-"  
  
She cut him off harshly. "And you know me so well now, do you?" She finally turned to face him, her fury radiating from her being. "You don't know anything about me, and you never will!" Other students in the room took notice of this altercation, and began to stare and whisper, but the two combatants disregarded them.  
  
"Pet, look. I understand you're brassed off, and I don't blame you, but we've got to work together, right?" He was starting to plead, and he began to resent her for making him beg, but he swallowed it down, knowing he'd dug a hole for himself. "I fucked up, but I'd like to be friends if you'll just-"  
  
Buffy let out a sharp laugh, and turned back to her canvas. "Yeah, I know, you need my help to graduate," she smiled cynically and took a moment to compose herself. "But that's it. I'll tutor you, but that's all. I don't want friends, as I believe I've told you, and even if I did, I certainly don't want you as my friend." Spike recoiled at her harsh, cruel tone and threw up his hands in capitulation.  
  
"Fine!" he yelled, not caring about who heard him. "Do what you like, then, Summers! I don't give a bloody goddamn!" With that, he stalked angrily from the room.  
  
Buffy tried to keep her mouth tightly closed to ward off the sobs that threatened. She had felt so guilty regarding her inaction on Spike's behalf. She'd worried and fretted about his condition constantly ever since seeing him and Giles off in the ambulance. Her relief at the news that he would be okay came as a surprise, and she realized that despite her attempts to cut herself off from people, she couldn't help caring about them, especially him, for some reason. When he approached her at her locker, she felt so embarrassed by his gratitude, yet thrilled at the same time. Then that jerk Parker had ruined everything. His revelation of Spike's cruel nickname for her stung, and she could no longer bear to remain in his presence. She dropped the brush and pallet on the table, and grabbed her bag. She left the classroom without so much as a by your leave to the teacher, and made a beeline for the school exit. Buffy needed desperately to be alone, school and Spike be damned. 


	10. chapter 101112

"Tara, what do you like in his work?" Buffy asked the shy girl pointing at a large painting in her mom's gallery. "Well, this is a realism piece. I like how he uses the shadow's to show uncertainty. Like we really don't know what is going on in the dark." Buffy smiled and noted on how far both of her 'students' have gotten. "Exactly. You guys are doing great, by this rate your going to be teaching me things the next time we meet." A red headed girl came up behind Tara and gave her a kiss on the check. "Bu- Buffy, this is my girl-girlfriend." Buffy smiled, "Yes. Willow. I know her." They exchanged knowing glances. "We are done here, so you guys can go." Joyce called Buffy over. "Oh, hey mom." "Hey honey. How was school today?" Joyce asked. "Same as usual. So, what's up with you?" Joyce replied, "I have to work late. There is a new shipment of art coming in and I might not get home 'till five in the morning. So, I called Rupert and he said that you could stay over at his place." Buffy smiled, "No problemo, mom." They traded kisses and left.  
  
Buffy collected all that she would need for a slumber party at Giles –nothing special, just the necessities. Staying over at his place was almost becoming a habit. She already kept an extra pair of clothes there, and her toothbrush. "Yo, Giles, What's up?" She asked not actually looking at him. "I'm not that old, pet," Spike answered. She jumped not knowing it was him and pushed pass him. "Where's Giles?" she asked. He rolled his eyes and sat down on the couch, "Went out. Said he had some official librarian business to take care of. Might be back late."  
  
She sighed dramatically. "Something bothering you, pet?" Spike asked trying to sound nonchalant. "No," she growled. Spike rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the television, "I'm sorry, okay? I just haven't gotten a lot of sleep lately and it has gotten me irritable and edgy." He shrugged, "Why haven't you gotten lots of sleep?" She decided on an answer, "Bad dreams." She hated lying, really she did. But it wasn't all phony. It was just easier to lie or, really, not telling all the truth.  
  
Spike headed out to bed a bit early, leaving Buffy and Giles to talk. "Are you sure you're going to be all right?" Giles asked to a slightly frantic Buffy. She had been acting weird since dinner. "He told me I was fine, so I am fine! Just fine. Did you hear him during the movie?" Giles asked, "Who are we bloody talking about?" She replied, "Him," as she pointed to an empty chair. "Buffy, dear, are you sure you're okay? You don't look so well." She gave him a weak hug, "Giles. I. Am. Fine." She curled on to the couch and fell straight asleep, while Giles reluctantly went to bed.  
  
She tossed and turned all night seeing pictures of Angel in her head. "I will always see you. Always feel you. And always know where you are." She whispered, "St-stop it Angel. Your-your not real." An invisible finger lightly ran it's way down her bare arm. Goosebumps invaded her senses. He brought her into a passionate kiss and she responded despite her conscious telling her no. It didn't last too long before she pulled away from her hallucination; guilt and hate filled her. Vomit started to fill her esophagus and she rushed into the bathroom.  
  
She stared into the mirror and really looked at herself. Buffy reached out and touched her reflection. "No. This isn't what I have become," she whispered. Louder she continued, "This isn't me." Spike woke up from all the noise coming from the bathroom. Tears filled her eyes while she searched for something sharp. She found some dull scissors and searched for something to change. Grabbing her straw hair, she took the clippers and chunked her long hair off. One side was above her shoulders, the other below. Spike groggily walked into the bathroom, unsure of the mess he saw there. She took the scissors to her wrist and used it as a dagger –poking and mutilating her skin. "Bu-Buffy?" he called. She looked up and her eyes grew wide, like a deer in the headlights. "What are you doing?" he asked finally absorbing the scene before him. He took the scissors out of her grasp and sat on his knees. "What in the hell, Buffy?" he asked trying to conceal his anger. "He's everywhere," she exclaimed in a deep, yet quiet voice. "Who's everywhere, pet?" he asked touching the hair in her hands. "Angel." She noticed the confusion on his face and continued, "H-he was my boy-boy friend back in CA." He wiped a tear coming from her eye, "What about him, love?" She started to tear back up, "He. He-he," her voice got low, "raped me." Spike's eyes lighted up with rage and empathy. "I'm sorry," he said while putting a strand of hair behind her ear. "He hurt me so much. He didn't stop, just kept on going. He hit me and told me I was a slut." Her face was now in his chest and he was holding her saying soothing words into her ear. "I wasn't though. I was a virgin. He forced himself on me. I couldn't do anything. I thought he loved me. He told me he did. Why doesn't he love me? I loved him. I think I did. He tells me in my dreams, that he will come after me." Spike pulled her away and looked straight into her red-rimmed eyes, "Why did you try to bloody kill yourself, pet?" Her lip trembled in anger, "Why? Why? Because he is fucking everywhere. He won't leave me alone. Because every night when I go to sleep I dream that it will happen again! Tonight I dreamt that he was here and he kissed me. He told me that he was all I ever had...that he was god. Now tell me, why would you want to end it?" His voice got serious, "I wouldn't. That is just what the bloke wants you to do." She stared straight into his deep blue eyes, "If you end it now, he will win. He's bloody gotten to you this far and that is what he wanted. You need to prove to him that you're still a bloody amazing girl. He didn't sodding break you." She smiled faintly, "Your right. I do need to move on, but it's so hard. He haunts me." He didn't know what to say, so he took her face into his hands, "I will never hurt you, pet. Not every whelp is like that." She nodded and fell asleep in his arms. He carried her to the couch and kissed her on the forehead. "What the hell am I bloody doing?" he asked under his breath while he crawled back to bed. Giles smiled from his doorway and shook his head, "That is what I like to know."  
  
"Buffy, I'm so glad that you're starting to get over Angel. I mean, slowly, but surely, you're starting to live your life again," her mother paused. "But why the sudden change? What made you change your mind?" her mother asked while pouring cereal. "It just suddenly dawned on me that I have to live on with my life. Screw the prick that made my life a living hell," she said while stuffing her mouth with fruit loops. Joyce frowned at her language, but smiled at the change in her daughter's attitude. "Well mom, I am out. I might be home late because I have to help Tara and Spike, with, ya know, art." Joyce smiled, "Okay sweetie." The door closed. "I hope it's not drugs," she mused out loud while setting her coffee creamer on the table.  
  
She walked confidently in the halls, unlike her old unsure stumble to her locker. Buffy heard the talk before. Some thought she was a hermit and moved to England to get over her loner ways. Others thought she was in special education, but most didn't even care. Now they were asking if that was the same girl. She smiled at the reactions.  
  
She walked into the library. Her books were still in her hand and she laid them on the round table. "Hello, may I help you?" he asked, his nose stuck in an old dusty book. He looked up when she didn't answer. "Oh hello Buffy," he greeted her warmly and went back to reading the book. She sat on the table, her feet kicking back and forth. "Notice anything different?" she said in a kiddy voice. He put the book down and straightened his glasses. He stuttered something, but she could understand everything. "I cut my hair," she stated plainly. "And I dyed it." She put her fingers through her hair. "Like it?" He nodded. "Yes it's very-becoming. But why the sudden modify? I thought you said only superficial people needed..." She cut him off. "Yea, I did say that. But I was wrong. And besides, someone reminded me that I wasn't broken yet." Giles smiled. 'That must have been William's doing,' he considered. "I am glad you're taking everything better," he said. Her face went into a thinking mode. "Yea. It's been hard, but life needs to go on." He agreed fully. Maybe he needed to move on also. Get on with his life; Jenny would have wanted him too.  
  
Spike drooled at the new girl. She was beautiful; she reminded him of the old Buffy. Her hair was dyed in a golden blonde. It hung nicely above her shoulders. She was wearing a knee length white jean skirt with a black studded belt; an electric blue hoddie completed the look. Stunning, angelic, gorgeous...they were a few adjectives that came to his mind. "Spike. Spike?" a voice called out to him. "What? Huh?" he called shaking his head out of a daze. "You completely spaced. Who ya' daydreamin' 'bout?" Parker asked. "No one," he snarled. "Whatever dude," Parker replied knowing that he was dreaming about the new girl. This just couldn't be. Parker was always jealous of Spike, ever since he got captain of the rugby team in middle school. Making him madder than hell, he paid some players on the other team to "damage" him. Parker got to be captain, once Spike broke his leg. It was common knowledge that whatever Spike wanted, Parker wanted also. So, when Spike started to take a fancy for Drusilla, Parker seduced her with his romantic ways and stole her from him. "Dude, Mrs. Green wants you," Parker said in his native surfer bum tone.  
  
Walking into Room 14 he saw her. Everything about her was beautiful, now if he could only see her face. He knew that it would be beautiful also. All that Spike got to see was her backside, not that he minded; she had a nice ass. "Spike," Mrs. Green called, smiling happily to see him. "Parker said you wanted t' see m'?" he asked trying to look at the girl. "Do you want to tell him or me?" Mrs. Green asked to the girl. "I will," she spoke while turning around. Buffy? Buffy! "Buffy?" he said confused by her appearance.  
  
She looked nothing like she normally did. Well that wasn't truly correct. She still had those same eyes.; those beautiful hazel eyes that had been through so much. Her skin was lightly tanned, but soft, just like always. She was smiling, also. It wasn't her beautiful smile, which he saw in the photo album, but this one was kind, authentic, and why in the hell was he thinking this? This was Buffy. The geeky girl who was scared of people touching her, only to know that she was raped, which made sense. This was the girl who looked for him when his father abused him –none of his friends would have done that. This was the girl who cried her eyes out in his arms, confessing her painful secret. This was the girl who he saved from committing suicide. This was the girl that he cared about. What? No! He didn't care about her. He couldn't. She didn't care about him, or, like him for that matter. He respected her and hopefully she respected him in return, but he still cared. It hurt him so much when he found out what happened to her. He was about to rip off that git's head and chop of his balls. Damnit. He did care.  
  
"Spike? Spike!" she called, waving her hand in front of his face. He was zoned out, again, and because of her. Damnit. "Sorry," he whispered blushing a little bit. "Anyway, like I was saying," she said not seeing him redden, "I was telling Mrs. Green on how well you are doing with the whole art thing. " He blushed again at her compliment. The big bad isn't supposed to blush! He never blushed before, damnit. What was it about this girl? She noticed it this time and heard his slight, "Thanks." She smiled and continued, "Well, anyway, Mrs. Green decided, since you're doing so well, that you can retake that midterm. Ya' know the one you failed. Anyway. If you pass it, then no more tutoring and say hello to your free days." He smiled. "How hard's 'he test?" Both women sighed. "Not that hard, Spike. You know all the information." He nodded. Mrs. Green added while leaving the room. "Here, I have the old study guide for the midterm in the office. Stay here, Buffy, I have that that article that I told you about."  
  
He sat down on the teacher's desk, while Buffy sat before him, in a student's desk. "'Sup with the new look, pet?" he asked trying to sound like he didn't care. He had to keep his cool. "You," she said. He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "We-Well, I mean th-that what you told me. You were right. So, I had to do something to my hair anyway. I mean, I did cut it off while I was crazy. Thanks for stopping me before I did to much damage." She wanted to thank him. She'd been waiting a long time. She hadn't seen him in a couple days. "No problem, love. Had to return the favor," he said. She frowned. It was just a favor.  
  
She stood up and walked over to the window. She started at an invisible bird on the limb, "Please. Please don't tell anyone." Her eyes watered, but she stayed strong. "I just, just don't treat me different because of it. I mean, don't be nice to me because you know." Spike smirked. "Wouldn't dream of it love." 


	11. chapter 13

She screamed. "Argh. Stupid punching bag," she said while holding her wrist. "Ow," she wined while rotating it around. She had been punching and jabbing for what seemed hours. She wanted to learn self-defense, just in case she needed it. She started to bounce up and down and shake her hands. She was getting ready. "Take that," she said while hitting the Everlast bag. "And that," she stated while kicking it hard. It swung back, which knocked her balance off, and she fell to the ground with a thud. She heard a laugh from the hallway. A British laugh. He walked over to her and helped her up. "It's not funny!" she said jutting out her lower lip, into a sexy pout. "If I fell on my bloody arse you you'd think it was funny." She rubbed her butt. "It hurts! Don't give me that look," she replied to his famous eyebrow raise. He started to chuckle again. "What is it now?" she screamed over the music. "Want my hel'?" he asked. "Yea, actually. I have never done this before and I don't know the stances or forms or whatever. You box?" Spike answered, "No, but did a bloody lot of fighting in the day."  
  
He demonstrated the correct movements to her, showing her to always block her face. She repeated what he did. "For a soddin' beginner, you're bloody good." She hit the bag again, "Thank you." She was very grateful for what he was doing for her. He was being a friend. She told him her secret, which she had kept so long from everyone. She trusted him, which was really big for her. He didn't treat her differently. He was incredible. The nicest man she had met. She felt safe around him and knew he would never hurt her.  
  
"Want to hit me, love?" he asked. "What?" Spike sighed, "Come 'ere." He put his hands on her shoulders; she didn't even flinch. "Now stand here. I don't want to hurt you. I'll stop if I do," he told her. He snuck up behind her and grasped her wrist. She back kicked him, making sure to strike his thigh. He let go of her wrist, when he slammed on the ground, from the force of her kick. She was about to walk away, when he captured her foot. He brought her down to the ground with her fighting and kicking the whole time. "Gotchya," he said grinning. She slapped his chest; "I so had you at first though." Spike sighed while getting up, "Yes, but I got you in the bloody end." He took of his sweat-soaked t-shirt and put a towel around his shoulders, "Good kick by the way." She beamed brightly, "Thank you. And thank you for being my test dummy. Always knew you had a hard head." She tapped her knuckles on his head. "See. Empty as the Tin Man's chest." He rolled his eyes, "Ha bloody ha."  
  
She opened the door to the flat. "Ya know, Spike, the art test is commin' up soon," she said while getting two bottles of water from the refrigerator. She threw one at him and he caught it. "I know," he said while guzzling down the water. "Well, if ya need help. You can always ask Tara or someone." She giggled slightly, "Or me. 'Cause you know, I happen to be the best." He rolled his eyes.  
  
He checked his clock, "Have to go take a bloody shower and do a paper on some topic." She laughed at that, "You don't even know what you're going to write about?" He shook his head. "Damn, someone is screwed." Spike walked out of the door, "You've got that right."  
  
The phone rang while Buffy was working on her math. "Hello? Oh hey mom. No, just doing math. You're working late tonight? And Giles is with you? Go mom! Fine, I will stop it. Sure, I will tell Spike. What time do you think you'll get home? Wow, that's late. Okay. Love you too. See ya." She looked down at her clothes. She was still in her working out clothes. This just wouldn't do. She put her hair into a messy ponytail and slipped on some worn in jeans and a big, comfy t-shirt. "Better," she confirmed while looking in the mirror.  
  
She opened Giles' door without even knocking. She heard the shower run. "Glad he is taking a shower. He was smelling," she said smiling. "Not in such a bad way." She sat down on the couch, tapping her hands to her favorite song. The beat was in her head, "Ooh, my little pretty one, my pretty one. When you gonna give me some time, Sharona. Ooh, you make my motor run, my motor run. Got it commin' o' the line, Sharona. Never gonna stop, give it up, such a dirty mind." She closed her eyes and sang the words out loud, letting her head bob to the music in her head. "I always get it up for the touch of the younger kind. My, my, my aye-aye, woah! M-m- m-my Sharona. Come a little closer, huh, a-will ya, huh? Close enough to look in my eyes, Sharona. Keepin' it a mystery, it gets to me. Runnin' down the length of my thigh, Sharona." Her head started to bob more dramatically, swaying it to and fro. Spike watched strands of hair move back and forth on her face. "Never gonna stop, give it up, such a dirty mind. I always get it up for the touch of the younger kind. My, my, my, aye- aye whoa! M-m-m-my Sharona. M-m-m-my Sharona." Her whole body was moving by now, "When you gonna give to me, a gift to me. Is it just a matter of time, Sharona. Is it d-d-destiny, d-destiny. Or is it just a game in my mind." Spike should really stop her from embarrassing herself too much. She heard him chuckle.  
  
She better keep this cool. She opened her eyes, only to find him in a towel wrapped around his waist, loosely. "What? I had to beat your performance in the shower." She smirked, "Because Beauty and the Beast is such a fetching song for you." He smiled and absently scratched his chest while yawning. "Didn't know you liked music like that, that's all." She shrugged. "What can I say? I like what I like." He tousled his wet hair. "That you do love, that you do," he said so she couldn't hear him.  
  
Buffy bit her lip while she was staring at his half-naked body. Tiny water droplets ran down his torso. She wanted to push him down, and lick the water away. What? No. She didn't just think that.  
  
She stuttered, "M-mom. Giles. Work." Spike raised his eyebrow, "What?" She stood up and threw his shirt at him, which was lying right beside her, "Mom and Giles are working late. She got this new shipment of fertility painting and statues. She didn't want her normal kids unloading them, since with all the nakedness. They always point and giggle and stae and sometimes they start making out with each other from all the horniness, and yea. So, Giles agreed to help her. And thus with the lateness." He walked over to her, standing about an inch away, "Couldn't help ogling my yumminess? That why you threw the shirt a' me?" She thought about what to say. "Yes, you know it. But I had to find sun glasses before I started to ogle that hot, white, vampire skin of yours." He put his hand over his heart, "That hurt, love." She smirked, "Yea, yea. Now go get dressed. I don't know 'bout you, but I am hungry. And we have nothing to eat at the house. And thank God Giles keeps food, especially junk food." He went into his room and pulled put on a button up black shirt. He slid on some jeans and left the shirt unbuttoned. "Your mum doesn't ha' a secret stash of junk in the cupboard?" he asked stunned. "Nope not even chocolate...for emergencies. She is like the health food nazi!" She looked up at his head; he had a major cowlick. She smoothed it down. "Damn, I thought your hair would be extra crispy, like too crispy for the Colonial. But nope, it's soft." She poked him in the stomach, "Just like you. Ya' big softie." He was hurt. "'S not soft. I am tough as bloody bricks." She wanted to prove her point, "Yes and that is why you cried during "The Fox and the Hound?" His eyes bugged out. Oh yea, she got him. She smiled at his face. "You can thank Uncle Giles," she said while patting her hand on his bare chest. She didn't know why she had to touch him; she just got the sudden urge. "Fine," he said while poking his head into the pantry, "it's not like Joyce doesn't talk when she fixes the hot chocolate." Her eyes widen in horror. Her mom had some good stuff on her –shit! He stuck his head out of the pantry and smirked. "Such a cute lil' baby, too. What the bloody hell happened?" She crossed her delicate arms over her chest. He started to laugh. "Who'd ever think that a girl like you, would streak naked through the yard" Her eyes enlarged again, "Please tell me it was just the stories?" He grinned, "Nope. Pictures worth a thousand words." She hit her head with her hand, "Uhh...Stupid mom with stupid embarrassing photo album with stupid naked pictures." Her eyes narrowed when he couldn't stop laughing, "Giles has pictures to ya know! I bet you were the cutest wittle baby." He froze up; he was a geek when he was younger –nancy boy hair with nancy boy clothes.  
  
She moaned when the delicious sent hit her nose. "Where in hell did you learn to cook?" she asked while sneaking her hand in the frying pan to pick up a piece of chicken. He slapped her hand. "Ah. You're goin' to ruin your appetite. And me mum." She breathed in the herbs and spices again, "God, you are like my Emeril." She sat down at the table and sipped on her glass of water, "Dad always said that men don't cook; that they are too manly to cook. But sometimes, when I was younger and when he still lived in the house, he would fix me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It would be cut into little horizontal pieces and he would always make sure that my peanut butter was chunky. That was as kitchen friendly as he got." She sniffed back sadness and started to study the very interesting wood of the table. "Why'd they split, pet? If ya' don't mind me asking," he said while boiling the noodles. "No, I don't mind. My dad always wanted a boy. A boy could keep his name continuing, you know? Anyway, I started to get into tons of sports and things like that, seeking his approval. But whatever I did never seemed enough." She paused. "He started to hang out at the office a lot more. I thought he was just trying to make more money by working overtime, but he was just screwing his secretary and boss," she said coldly. "That went on for a long time. Mom, I guess, always suspected something, but I don't think she wanted to think that way." Buffy took her finger and ran it over the rim of the glass, over and over. "I found out first. I saw him in the middle of having sex with his boss. He didn't know I was there, but she did. And she kept doing it; kissing him, saying she loved him. She was rubbing it in my face. I didn't tell my mom." She continued to play with the rim of the glass. "Then one day, he just left. He didn't say anything. He didn't leave anything. He just-left. He called me two weeks later. He told me. He actually told me that he didn't love us anymore. He said that he couldn't live like that. He couldn't live living a lie." She shook her head, trying to forget about that talk over the phone. The timer rang. "I'm sorry, love. Here, dinner's ready." She nodded numbly, still encircling the brim of the glass.  
  
"God Spike, dinner tasted better then it smelt!" she said while plopping down on the couch. "I ate too much and now my tummy hurts." He smiled and sat down in the reclining chair, "I'll take that as a compliment." He yawned and she yawned, as chain reaction. "Damn you Spike. All the food made me sleepy." He turned on HBO. "Aha. Interview With A Vampire. A bloody good movie." She curled her knees into her chest and rested her head on her knees. "Never seen it, but doesn't matter anyway. You have to do that paper, 'member?" He shrugged, "All ready did it." She yawned again, "Well, I have math homework to do. Have to work on some kind of proof. Then I have to take a shower." She stretched on the couch, raising her hands in the air. "I wasn't going to say anything, pet, but you're ripe." She walked over to him and sat on the edge of the armrest. She rested her body against his side. "And you love it!" In a valley girl voice she mocked, "Like who ever said Channel Perfume was the new B.O. was so totally disturbed."  
  
"Hell! This problem's hard," she yelled while slamming her fist on the couch. "And I will use this in my life, when?" An idea came to her mind. She got dressed in some snuggly drawstring pants, which on the butt said queen, and a big over shirt. She knocked on the door. "Spike," she whined while tapping on the door louder. It had only been an hour and a half since she left, so he had to still be up. A sleepy Spike came into the doorway, "What do you soddin' want, Summers?" She handed him her thick math book. He sighed and walked over to the couch. "Look it's not that hard." She pouted, unknown to her that it was so damn sexy. "Please Spike!" She knew he could reel him in, if she boosted his ego. "You're older than me and have so much knowledge of other worlds that I lack. Please. Please. Please." Ha. It worked. "Fine, just suck that quivering lip back in." She sat next to him on the couch and put her head on his shoulder. "You're the bestest," she stated like she was a little kid. 


	12. chapter 14

"Thank you so much for helping me, Rupert," Joyce praised while walking into his flat. "I'm sorry we got done so late, I thought we were getting the statues next week." He smiled while turning on the lamp, "No problem, Joyce. It was quite enjoyable. I haven't been to a gallery in years." He laid his jacket over the couch. A moan came from the couch. Giles turned on another lamp, "Bloody hell." Joyce pointed, "Rupert, it's okay. Buffy and William are just sleeping on the couch, innocently."  
  
Spike's body was leaned up against the side of the couch, with his head softly resting on the side of Buffy's head. Her face was nestled on his shoulder, whereas her arm hugged his, like Spike was a teddy bear. Her math book was lying in her lap, while her feet where off to the side of her.  
  
"Should we wake them?" Giles whispered to Joyce. "I have never seen Buffy sleep this soundly in months." She thought for a moment, "Why don't we just keep them here." Grabbing a thin blanket from the linen closet, she covered the two up. She kissed Buffy and William on the forehead, "Night." And she snuck back to her own apartment with Giles.  
  
"I think I must have caught my second wind," Joyce said to a sitting Giles, while pouring him tea. "Yes, I understand what you mean. I'm not even a tad bit tired." She smiled to him and sat down on the opposite end of the table. "Buffy sure has been open with William lately," she acknowledged while sipping on coffee. He shook his head, "Yes. They seem to be, god forbid, friends." He thought for a moment, "She really has been a good influence. He finally has excelled in something beside his sarcastic tone." She giggled, "Yes, I am glad Buffy has finally opened up towards men. Ever since her father left, she always seemed to trust them less and then with Angel she just lost all hope in them. Not that I blame her." He questioned her. "It's just that, all the people she loved in her life either leave or hurt her. If I was Elizabeth, I would hate men all together. But, thank God, I am not her. And besides, I still have a sliver of hope for all men," she said suggestively. He smiled nervously and began to drink more tea.  
  
Buffy was rudely awoken by her teddy bear. She slapped it, trying to scold it from moving. Moving? When do stuffed bears move? And why is it not cuddly soft? She opened an eye. Where the hell was she? She tried not to panic. Remembering about last night's events, she calmed down, but she still didn't understand the whole moving-teddy bear thing. "Ah. Spike!" she screamed while finally noticing that he was not a bear. He grumbled something under his breath and then pushed her to the ground.  
  
"Ow! Spike? Hello. I was sleeping there too, ya know," she said trying to get up. He scratched his exposed chest groggily, "Sorry 'bout that, love. Wait-why where you in my bed?" She sighed, "We are not in your-the. We fell asleep on the couch last night." She rubbed her sore butt; it was the second time she fell on it.  
  
Something dawned on her. "Oh my God, Spike! What is the friggen time?" She started to freak out, her eyes where as wide as Oreos, and she was hyperventilating. "Buffy, love, calm down," Spike said while putting his hands on her shoulders. "Breath. In and out. That's it," he sneered. She rolled her eyes and picked up his wrist. "Of course you wouldn't have a stupid watch. It isn't 'bloody' cool." He snatched back his wrist, "Bloody hell it isn't!" She looked at the time on the oven. "It's seven eighteen." She yawned and stretched her hands over her head, exposing some of her once- tanned belly. Spike looked away and scratched his head. They stood in silence for a while. "I-I should go get dressed." Spike agreed, "Yea. School and such bloody nonsense."  
  
She was about to escape, but Spike called out while after checking in Giles' room. "Uncle Rupie isn't in his room." Buffy got confused. "Where could he be then?" She bit her lower lip hard, "I wonder if Mom is home."  
  
Buffy and Spike practically sprinted to the door. "Mom. Mom? MOM!" she screamed while walking into the room. She headed towards her mother's room. She opened it and her eyes enlarge. Mom. Giles. In same room. In bedroom. Mom's bedroom. Alone. Together. Well, not really together. Joyce was sleeping in her bed, while Giles was laying on the red love seat at the foot of her bed. They weren't really close, but close enough for pictures and imagery to roam in Buffy's head. She numbly walked out to the couch and sat down. "Goldilocks, yo' okay?" Spike asked while getting concerned at her zombie like appearance. "Mom. Giles. Same room. Bedroom. Together," she stammered out. Spike quickly walked to Joyce's bedroom and opened the door. He, also, walked to the couch zombie like. "Bad images," she said. Spike shook his head, "Very bloody bad."  
  
"Should we wake them?" she asked while getting out some orange juice. "Don't know." He looked at the clock. "School's gonna start soon. Giles should get up." She thought, "I don't think they got much sleep last night." Her eyes, again, widen. "Oh my God! What am I saying? Nothing sexual happened between them, 'cause that would be nasty and wrong and nasty and did I mention nasty?" He shook his head, "'S not nice to bloody put images in a bloke's head with out him wanting it." She rolled her eyes and handed him the orange juice. "I have those images too, mister!" She paused, "I have an idea. Why don't we get dressed and get ready, and by the time we are, maybe he will wake up. If not, we can get him up." Spike swallowed the juice in one gulp and got up to go back to his flat. "As long as you wake them up," he stated before closing the door.  
  
He got dressed quickly –faster than he has ever done before. He put on some ratty, dark jeans and a red silky shirt with a clean white undershirt. He slicked back his curly hair and glared at himself in the mirror. "Where's my bloody bracelet?" he asked himself while looking at his left arm. He searched every cabinet in the bathroom, when he noticed a silver sparkle coming from the floor. "Aha," he said while latching the bracelet on. Quickly grabbing his things, he headed over to Buffy's.  
  
She found no need to dilly dally with her time. She found a pair of loose- fitting khaki pants and added a, also big, green long-sleeved shirt. She put on a rhinestone belt, so her pants wouldn't fall down. She messily fixed her hair into a braid, not caring about the pieces of hairs that weren't held back. Buffy gazed at her reflection, "See Angel, you don't bother me anymore." She grabbed a jacket and walked out to a Spiked couch.  
  
"Not up yet, I presume?" Spike asked while laying his head back on the couch. She sighed. "I'll go wake them."  
  
She knocked on the door loudly, praying that is all they needed as a wake up call. She heard no sounds. She knocked again even louder. Again, no noise. She opened the door and tried to look away. "Giles. Get up. It's time for school," she said while shaking him. "Bloody five more minutes." She groaned. "Giles. Get your fat ass up!" His eyes popped open, and looked at the young girl before him. "Ah ah ah. Nope. You just get dressed and get ready for work. I don't want to know," she said while walking out the door. 


	13. chapter 15

Spike was staring at Buffy, again. She was talking with Willow and Tara. She seemed to be getting friendly with them. Why was he doing this? He didn't know. He didn't even have a lame excuse.  
  
"Hey Spikey," a voice called from behind him. He turned around reluctantly not wanting to break his staring at Buffy. "Hey, Harm," he said to the preppy blonde. "So, Blondie Bear, I was wondering..." The bell rang. 'Thank GOD!' Spike thought. "Sorry, Harmony, bloody class calls." She gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "It's okay Spikey, we can talk later." He rolled his eyes and went to class, this being the first time he actually wanted to go.  
  
"Who's that?" Buffy asked the two girls who stood before her. Willow answered, "Oh, that's just Harmony. She is like, so in love with Spike." Buffy wrinkled her brow, "Is he in love with her, because he has never mentioned her at all and..." Tara and Willow smiled. "Nope. Spike is single. Harmony is desperate and annoying. She thinks he is in love with her. I think it's cute." Buffy saw red when she gave Spike a kiss, she didn't know why. "Yea. Yea. Cute." The bell rang. "Ah. Class, what a pain in the ass."  
  
It had become a habit for Buffy to sit with Spike's friends during lunch; they were friendly and very kind to her. Anya was the most outspoken of the group, talking about sex openly and being very straightforward. Xander was more of the laid back friend, who was very trustworthy and loyal. Willow was the smart, brainy type, while Tara was sweet and quiet with the group.  
  
Buffy never talked about her life before she came to London. If anyone would ask her, she would just try to avoid it. They finally got the point that they were never going to get any information out of her, so they stopped asking.  
  
"I swear, Mr. Snyder is PMSing. He saw Tara and I holding hands and he went ballistic," Willow said while munching on a cookie. "He's not into the whole modern gay thing yet, Will," Xander stated. "Guess you're right, but don't all men love lesbians?" A couple coughs came from Xander and Spike all the girls giggled. "So, Buff, you going to Parker's party?" Xander asked. Buffy bit her lip nervously. Her mash potatoed spoon was far more interesting than the question asked. "I-I don't know. Me and parties don't mix. The alcohol and the people...it's just a big no-no." She laughed nervously. "Come on, Buffster, it will be fun. There's music and booze and funness all around." Buffy began to play with her spoon again. "I'll see. I'm not much of a partier..." she looked at the faces all around, begging. "I'll try, okay. I might have something else to do." Anya snorted and Xander slapped her. "I just don't like parties, okay?" she said with a hint of anger. Anya rolled her eyes, "Yea. What happened that made you so boring? Did someone stick a stick up your ass?" Xander looked at Anya with shock on his face. No one said a thing. "I-I have to go," she softly said, it was so soft that no one heard her. Buffy put her half eaten lunch in the trashcan and ran out.  
  
"Buffy wait," Spike called, but he was too late she already went into the bathroom. He walked back to the table. "Good job, Ahn." Anya narrowed her eyes at him, "It's not my fault that she isn't fun! I didn't know she was going to take it so hard. What's her problem anyway?" Xander just covered his face. Spike got angry. He said loudly, "Do you gits ever think of why she bloody came here? Did it even sodding cross your mind, Anyanka, why she doesn't let people touch her? Huh? Have you eve' thought?" He never felt this way before. Anya got quiet. "No," she whispered.  
  
She scampered to the bathroom and gazed at herself in the mirror. The wet streams under her eyes where overflowing. "God, she's right," she sighed. Why did she care what Anya thought? She didn't know. It was the truth and it affected her somehow. Angel still had a grasp on her life. No matter how hard she tried, he would always control her.  
  
"She is like such a freak, ya know?" a brunette said while opening the door to the bathroom. "I know! Why does Spike like her, I will never know!" said that Harmony girl. Buffy backed into the stall and sat down on the toilet. She listened intently. "He actually likes her? He told you?" the brunette asked while fixing her eye shadow. "Cordy, I don't need his word on it. I see him staring at her. He gets this cute look in his eyes that is disgusting. 'Cause I want him to look at me like that, ya know?" She was pulling her hair into a bun. "Yes, I totally get it, Harm!" She wined, "How can I make him mine?" Cordy put her hands on Harmony's shoulders. "Look. I hear he is going to Parker's party. I will make you so hot, that he couldn't resist you, I promise. Now, let's go." They left the bathroom, but not before they flipped their hair over their shoulders and then let out a preppy sigh.  
  
Tara passed the two girls on her way to the bathroom. "Buffy?" she called. She noticed the feet in one of the stalls. She opened the door and saw the upset girl who's hands where holding her sadden face. "Anya didn't mean that," Tara said. Buffy sniffed. "It's-It's not Anya's fault." She looked down at her shoes. "She's right in a way." Tara questioned her, "What do you mean?" Buffy, for the first time, looked into Tara's eyes. Tara squatted in front of her and secured a piece of hair behind her ears. "It's just-It's just that," Buffy's mind drifted to the goals that she started when she got here. 'Keep everything a secret.' She hadn't been doing that. She already told Giles and Spike, should she tell Tara? "It's-It's nothing." Tara noticed that something was wrong with her. "You can tell me anything. You know that right?" Buffy weakly smiled. "Yea. I know. It's just that, I can't. Not now, anyways." Tara's finger caressed her face. "It's okay." Buffy stood up and fixed her face. "Stupid redness," she paused. "I want to go to this party and I want to have a good time." Tara smiled, "Are you sure?" Buffy nodded, "As long as I have fun!"  
  
"Do you want some more beer?" Parker asked Buffy. "Yea, I'd love some," she smiled. "You are so cute when you smile," he said while rubbing her face with his finger. Her heart fluttered. Maybe there was hope after Angel. She was really having fun at the party. She had about five or seven or maybe six cups of beer. She didn't keep track. Parker just kept them coming.  
  
Buffy was wearing a long blue jean skirt, with a long slit in the bag. A bright yellow jacket went on top of a loose white shirt. She looked good, but not slutty, which is the look she was going for.  
  
Spike kept an eye over Buffy. He did not trust Parker at all. He was trying to get over to her and take her home before she did something that she regretted, but Harmony had her paws all over him.  
  
Harmony looked extra exposed for the party. She wore a tight red, spaghetti strap dress that went to mid thigh. Her hair was draped on her back in big curls, which had slim black highlights running through her hair. Her make up was dark and smoky. To put it simply she looked like a hoe, but so did many other girls at the party.  
  
"Spikey, I was wonderin..." she said. "Damn you Xander! This was a very expensive Prada! What were you thinking?" she screamed while trying to clean up the spill on her dress. "I am so sorry Harm. I didn't even notice you where there," he said sarcastically. Harmony stomped into the kitchen angry as hell. "Thanks man," Spike said while rising his glass. "No problem man. I saw that ya looked desperate." Xander sipped on his drink. "So man, what's the deal between you and Buffy?" Spike coughed, "What ya mean, mate?" Xander casually said, "Well, it's just that, I know ya' man and I know that stupid git look on your face." Spike sat down on the stair step, holding his drink in-between his legs. "What?" Spike asked. "It's just that, you two seem very close and I know that you normally don't get that close." Spike leaned his head back and sighed. "I don't bloody know, man. I just feel like such a nancy boy." Xander patted Spike on his shoulder. "It's okay, man. Every guy has to be nancy, once and a while."  
  
Parker was getting Buffy nice and drunk. He started to like this girl. She was hot, sexy and had a nice ass. Oh yea, he was definitely going to get into this girl's pants.  
  
"You want to dance?" he asked Buffy. She giggled, "Yea, I'd love too." He pulled Buffy out onto the floor. "Dragula" by Rob Zombie was playing. To Buffy the room seemed to be spinning from all the alcohol in her system, which made the already sexy song seem erotic. She started to sway back and forth, keeping her distance from Parker. He noticed the, to him, huge gap between them and pulled her closer to his body. She started to panic, but calmed down when she got too hazy to fight.  
  
His hands seemed to be all over the place. She was getting uncomfortable with all the touchiness. "You dance so good, baby," he cooed into her ear. She didn't like the way his voice sounded in her ear, or how close he was to her face, or the fact that his hands where running down her back to her butt. She put his hands back onto her waist, but he slid them down again. "No," she said more weakly then she meant. She wanted to sound demanding, she wanted to sound fierce, but that isn't what came out. "Why baby?" he said while rotating her hips around. "Because I don't-I don't feel comfortable." He rolled his eyes, "Then why did you drink all that beer baby?" She backed away from him as quick as she could, "Because I wanted to have fun, but not this type of fun."  
  
"Buffy, just calm down. Look," he said while lifting his hands in the air, "I am not touching you." She smiled and slipped back into his grasp.  
  
"Look at that stupid bloke with his hands all over that chit," Spike said while pointing to a couple on the floor. "Spike, you do know that is Buffy, right?" Spike raised his eyebrow. "With Parker. She's dancing with Parker." Spike suddenly was outraged. His eyes left her for a second...  
  
Buffy rested her tired head on Parker's upper chest. She was starting to see two of him and her mind was hurting. Just when she thought he was being more of a gentleman, he came in to kiss her. She pulled her head back, so he only kissed her forehead. She backed up and looked at him. Anger was shooting from his eyes, and she hugged herself while walking away farther. He caught up with her and grabbed her arm harshly. "Let go," she commanded, not letting fear come over her.  
  
Xander and Spike saw what happened. "What are you waiting for, man? Go help her out!" Spike didn't ask twice, he stood up and walked over to the scene. He just wanted to make sure that she didn't get hurt. He didn't want to interfere.  
  
He grinned vilely, "What are you going to do, huh?" She squinted her eyes and jabbed him in the arm. He moaned in pain and let go of her arm. "Gonna fight back, are we? How...stupid of you." He was pissed now. No girl could beat him up!  
  
She was starting to get dizzy. She put her clenched hands in front of her face, "Looks like." He laughed and stated to the crowd forming around him, "I'm not going to hit a girl! That's just wrong. Especially one who is as puny as you." She got livid. She punched him in the nose. "I am not puny!"  
  
Her body became slower in movement and Spike noticed it. She had too much beer in her system; she was going to crash soon. He attacked her ruthlessly. Being a girl was not a matter anymore. He pulled her to her knees and forced her to stay there. With all the strength she had, she stood up, and kicked him in the groin. He screamed in pain and she fainted on the ground. Spike went over and picked her up. He needed to get her home. 


	14. chapter 16

Spike carried her to his bedroom. Giles was already asleep and so was Joyce. There was no worry where Buffy was in Joyce's mind; she was going to spend the night with Tara anyway. He took off Buffy's jacket and shoes and put her tenderly in bed.  
  
It was all his fault that she was drunk. He should have warned her about Parker, about how he played dirty. He didn't know why he cared so much about her, he just did.  
  
He sat in a chair beside his bed and stared at the beauty that was before him. She was beautiful when she was awake and she was also beautiful when she slept. When was this girl not gorgeous? He smiled at how peaceful she was sleeping. He wished he could just make all her fears and pains go away. Make her realize that not all men are jerks. Make her feel what real love was like. Make her know how much he cared. He just wished that he could be hers. She could be his. They could be each other's.  
  
Sleep conquered his thoughts of Buffy quickly.  
A messy blonde head peaked its way through hunter green sheets. She opened her eyes and wiped away the dried saliva from the corner of her mouth. Buffy couldn't remember where she was. All she remembered was that she got drunk and Parker got pretty cozy with her. She couldn't be in Parker's room, could she? She wouldn't have, would she? Her vision cleared, despite the throbbing headache.  
  
Pale. Black. White. Beautiful blue. All those colors equaled Spike. Spike? He wouldn't have taken advantage of her, would he? He knew her story; was the only one she told. Maybe he didn't know she was drunk? But he wouldn't. He couldn't. She respected him too much. Did he respect her? Did he think she was a joke? All these questions were hurting Buffy's head.  
  
Her head felt like a construction worker mistook her head for a slab of concrete that needed to be jack hammered. She was never much of a drinker.  
  
Spike scratched his head lazily and sexily. "Good morning," his sexy accent echoed in her mind. "Good friggen mornin'," she mumbled. She was on her thin stomach with her hand on the side of her head, holding it up. He started to whistle a Disney tune. "Are you always so perky in the morning?" Her stomach churned and made a nasty noise. She felt nauseous. "Last night. Nothing-I mean. I can't remember and...what happened?" Spike put a wife beater on his naked chest. "Bloody Parker tried to make a move on you" His voice was getting angry now. "You walked off making a whole big scene. Kicked him where it hurt."  
  
She groaned. "This is a hangover?" He nodded while sitting on the corner of his bed. "It's so, so, so..." He interrupted, "Unpleasant?" She coughed a sigh, "I was going to say hell on earth. But that works too."  
  
Spike went to get Buffy some Advil and water. Buffy was sprawled on his bed, legs and arm wide. She still had that skirt and jacket on. Damn outfit. When Spike walked back into his room she said, "Sorry I took your comfy bed last night. Wish I could've remembered the slumber, 'cause it is all soft and yea." She yawned and put her sore head back onto the pillow. "S'ok."  
  
Buffy smelt a whiff of pancakes that Spike was eating. She walked to the bathroom as quick as she could and lie down on the floor next to the toilet. Her arm was on the seat and her head rested on top. Spike walked in and relaxed his head on the doorframe. "Giles is out with your mom. Need anything?" She muttered a "no." She started to dry heave. Spike was by her side and lifted her hair away from her face. After her convulsions were over, she faintly smiled. "Can I take shower?" she said, her throat being raw from the acid. He nodded and helped her up.  
He walked out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her body. She had moist bead running down her chest, her arms, and her tanned legs. She walked into his room. Nobody was there. Buffy looked through his dresser drawers. Most of his shirts were black. She put on her underwear and grabbed a black t-shirt with lime green writing. The shirt would swallow her up; she liked it. It smelt like him –warm tobacco and old spice. The cold chill of Spike opening the door, sent chills up her nude body. Her back turned, her head looked back at him. He couldn't stop staring she was beautiful. Did she know she was stunning? Obviously not. She always puts herself down. Stupid girl. "Sorry love," he said blushing and turned his back. She quickly put on the shirt. "I-I needed some clothes, so I hope you don't..." He smiled, "Nah, don't mind." She looked damn good in his shirt. He could wake up every morning to this. 


	15. chapter 1718

She slammed her locker door hard and put her forehead on the cool metal surface. She was having a bad day, to put it simply. She was on her period and emotions where running super high. Her father still hasn't called her and she started to feel like he hated her and didn't care. Her mother was busy with the gallery and was working very late, which led Buffy to maintain the house, cook, clean, and other things mothers should do. Giles was helping her mother and spending most of his time at the art gallery, so she couldn't talk to him. Spike was the only one she could even stand, but he was hanging out with his guy friends. She felt alone and helpless.  
  
Buffy didn't feel like going to class, she just wanted to be alone with her thoughts. Buffy found a comfortable spot at the side of the school, where a live oak tree was. She curled up against the tree, closed her eyes, and let her thoughts drift. "God my life sucks," she wined. Buffy grabbed her legs and brought them up to her chest, so that her chin rested on the top of her knees. Stray tears left her eyes. She rocked back and forth. "Why is my life so difficult?" she asked to the tree's leaves. Her bottom lip trembled. Why did it do that?  
  
"Didn't expect to find you out here, love," Spike said while taking a long drag on his fag. He blew the smoke out into the wind and observed it being swirled by the dark wind. She turned her head hoping that he would just go away. He stood there for minutes it seemed, just silent and watching the wind pick up colored leaves from the ground and twirl through the air. "What are you doing here?" she asked gaining the courage to talk and wishing that her voice didn't seem so cracked. "Just out for a smoke," he dropped the used cigarette on the ground. "And what are you doing here, pet?"  
  
She clenched her teeth. "I am not your pet," she sneered. "And I wanted to come out here to wallow!" Why was she being so mean to him? All he ever did to her was be nice. But today she didn't want anyone to be nice to her. She was aiming to pick a fight and it looks like he was the winner. "Looks like that time of the month," he smirked. "You bastard!" she screamed trying to hide back the tears. "Get over it Goldilocks!"  
  
"Why are you being so mean?" she asked while standing up and facing him. "Because, pet, everyone has a bloody fucked up life. So yea, you had a soddin' tough time with blokes, doesn't mean others don't have bloody problems too!" He didn't know why he was being so angry. He was tired of all her "Woe is me" crap. It just killed him that he couldn't touch her. So many times he just wanted to kiss her and make it all better for her, for him. But he couldn't. She wouldn't. Why was it so hard? It was never hard before. It's different this time. Why is it different? Buffy is different. Is that why? God, why didn't he know?  
  
"Oh yea? And tell me what has fucked up your life so badly, 'cause I am dieing to know," Buffy said, eyes narrowed and watered with her teeth clenched. "You want to sodding know?" he asked while raising his eyebrow. She didn't give him an answer, just crossed her arms over her chest and stared him down. "Fine then love. 'S not a pretty story. When me da' found out me mum was pregnant, he left. Me mum raised me 'till I was five, then the whelp came back. Mum wanted him back, not for her, but for me –wanted me to have a da'. Ever' night I would hear fighting, things being broken, stuff little that. One night, when I was 'bout ten, I heard screaming and "no's" and things like that, but I didn't think it was anything. A Couple weeks later, mum found out she was pregnant. Didn't put two and two together, 'till I was older. I'm guessing she was raped. Don't know though." He looked away, so Buffy couldn't see his watery eyes. "'Bout six months later she died. Was told it was suicide, but she was a happy woman. She would never, though, I-she. Anyway, after that dad got custody over me and started to beat me. Always my fault, he'd say. He'd still love me mum, if I didn't come into the bloody picture. He got drunk often, even before mum passed. When da' beat me, he told me not to cry. 'Boys don't soddin' cry," he would say. So he'd test me. He'd take this sharp knife and cut me until I wouldn't cry. I got addicted to the pain, and this girl, Drusilla. She used me, cheated on me –she did everything to me. But I bloody stood for it, because I didn't want to be alone. The pain made me feel better, it was my bloody haven."  
  
Buffy felt stupid, worthless, terrible...the list could go on. She just wanted to take Spike in her lap and hold him; make everything better. "I didn't. I didn't know," she whispered while hugging herself. Spike never told anyone his story before. He was almost shocked that he told her. "Ya? Well now ya' do." He just wanted to cry, but he shouldn't, he couldn't. He had to get away from her. She made him so mad, and he didn't know why. He just walked away, leaving her alone once again. "Damnit," she whispered only to be heard by the wind.  
  
Tara noticed the difference between Buffy and Spike during the week. Spike didn't eat, zoned out, and when he actually went to class, he would sleep, while Buffy became like her old self, and started to be quieter and keep to herself more. What happened between the two?  
  
A couple sobs came from a restroom stall. Tara listened closer. She recognized that sound. "Buffy?" she said with her hand on the door of the stall. "Uhuh," Buffy answered, her voice too shaky to speak. "Are you okay?" Buffy took some toilet paper and wiped her face. She closed her eyes before she answered, "Yea." Buffy opened the door. "We have to stop meeting like this." She smiled, "I agree." Tara graciously took a wet paper towel and ran it under her eye. "Thanks," Buffy murmured. "No problem." Tara paused, "I haven't seen you much this week." She looked at her shoe. "Sorry. I just have been really busy?" Tara continued her sentence, "Busy avoiding Spike." Buffy let her head fall, "That obvious?" Tara bit her lip, "More like Spike avoiding you more." Buffy nodded.  
  
"I have never seen him so hurt. He just so out of it. I never seen him this way before and I saw him get over Drusilla." Tara paused once again. "Did anything happen between you two?" Buffy shook her head. "No we just got into a fight and he got really mad at me. I didn't know-about his life. I acted like an idiot." Tara pushed some hair out of Buffy's face, "It might just be me, but apologies always makes things better." She faintly smiled. 'Sometimes they do,' she thought to herself.  
  
She walked out of the bathroom ready and willing to apologize to Spike. She needed him in her life –this was too hard. Buffy saw Spike sitting at a lunch table by himself. He looked confused and lonely. 'Poor man,' she thought. She was about to walk over to him, but a slutty blonde caught her eye –Harmony. Harmony sat down across from Spike and put her hands over his. He smiled. She smiled. Buffy frowned. She said something that made him laugh. When was the last time Buffy saw Spike laugh? She couldn't remember. Buffy walked closer to the two and could hear their conversation.  
  
"So there's that dance coming up, Spikey, and I was wondering if you would go with me?" she asked while twirling her hair with her finger. Spike thought, 'Have nothing bloody better to do.' He nodded. "Sure, why not." Harmony got up and hugged his head. "Thank you so much Blondie Bear. We'll have so much fun. Call me later, okay?" And she walked off perkily down the hall.  
  
Buffy saw red. Yea he was hurt all right! How could he like her? He was supposed to like Buffy! Fine then, two can play at that game. (Even though there is no game to play...)  
  
"Hey Parker," Buffy said sheepishly fiddling with her hands. He broke away from his group of friends and coldly bobbed his head. He crossed his hands over his chest. "I just-I just wanted to say sorry for the other night. I was drunk and when I get alcohol in my system, I get all weird and freaky." Parker's lips curved into a smile. "It's not a problem. Ya' didn't hurt me that much, after all you're just a girl." A couple chuckles came from his group and some, "Oh yea, Girl Suck's" also came. "Thanks," she said wanting to pound Parker's friends into the ground. Buffy turned around to leave, but he caught up with her. "Hey, I was wondering, do you want to go to that dance with me?" Buffy smiled, "Yea I'd love to." She walked away and one of Parker's friends pulled his arm. "Dude, that girl kicked you in the nuts and you want to go back out with her again." Parker smirked. "It's okay, man. I heard she was real easy. I am talking about you say 'I love you' and she's down on the ground givin' it to ya. It's all good." He got some high fives from his crowd.  
  
Chapter 18 Tara noticed the difference between Buffy and Spike during the week. Spike didn't eat, zoned out, and when he actually went to class, he would sleep, while Buffy became like her old self, and started to be quieter and keep to herself more. What happened between the two?  
  
A couple sobs came from a restroom stall. Tara listened closer. She recognized that sound. "Buffy?" she said with her hand on the door of the stall. "Uhuh," Buffy answered, her voice too shaky to speak. "Are you okay?" Buffy took some toilet paper and wiped her face. She closed her eyes before she answered, "Yea." Buffy opened the door. "We have to stop meeting like this." She smiled, "I agree." Tara graciously took a wet paper towel and ran it under her eye. "Thanks," Buffy murmured. "No problem." Tara paused, "I haven't seen you much this week." She looked at her shoe. "Sorry. I just have been really busy?" Tara continued her sentence, "Busy avoiding Spike." Buffy let her head fall, "That obvious?" Tara bit her lip, "More like Spike avoiding you more." Buffy nodded.  
  
"I have never seen him so hurt. He just so out of it. I never seen him this way before and I saw him get over Drusilla." Tara paused once again. "Did anything happen between you two?" Buffy shook her head. "No we just got into a fight and he got really mad at me. I didn't know-about his life. I acted like an idiot." Tara pushed some hair out of Buffy's face, "It might just be me, but apologies always makes things better." She faintly smiled. 'Sometimes they do,' she thought to herself.  
  
She walked out of the bathroom ready and willing to apologize to Spike. She needed him in her life –this was too hard. Buffy saw Spike sitting at a lunch table by himself. He looked confused and lonely. 'Poor man,' she thought. She was about to walk over to him, but a slutty blonde caught her eye –Harmony. Harmony sat down across from Spike and put her hands over his. He smiled. She smiled. Buffy frowned. She said something that made him laugh. When was the last time Buffy saw Spike laugh? She couldn't remember. Buffy walked closer to the two and could hear their conversation.  
  
"So there's that dance coming up, Spikey, and I was wondering if you would go with me?" she asked while twirling her hair with her finger. Spike thought, 'Have nothing bloody better to do.' He nodded. "Sure, why not." Harmony got up and hugged his head. "Thank you so much Blondie Bear. We'll have so much fun. Call me later, okay?" And she walked off perkily down the hall.  
  
Buffy saw red. Yea he was hurt all right! How could he like her? He was supposed to like Buffy! Fine then, two can play at that game. (Even though there is no game to play...)  
  
"Hey Parker," Buffy said sheepishly fiddling with her hands. He broke away from his group of friends and coldly bobbed his head. He crossed his hands over his chest. "I just-I just wanted to say sorry for the other night. I was drunk and when I get alcohol in my system, I get all weird and freaky." Parker's lips curved into a smile. "It's not a problem. Ya' didn't hurt me that much, after all you're just a girl." A couple chuckles came from his group and some, "Oh yea, Girl Suck's" also came. "Thanks," she said wanting to pound Parker's friends into the ground. Buffy turned around to leave, but he caught up with her. "Hey, I was wondering, do you want to go to that dance with me?" Buffy smiled, "Yea I'd love to." She walked away and one of Parker's friends pulled his arm. "Dude, that girl kicked you in the nuts and you want to go back out with her again." Parker smirked. "It's okay, man. I heard she was real easy. I am talking about you say 'I love you' and she's down on the ground givin' it to ya. It's all good." He got some high fives from his crowd. 


	16. chapter 19

It had been two weeks since Buffy and Spike had stop talking. Everything was harder with the two in the mist of a fight. Sometimes she really wanted to beg for forgiveness and have him hold her. Sometimes Spike wished that he would just apologize and hold her. They never would though. They were both stubborn.  
  
Buffy knocked on Giles' door. "Giles? You there?" No answer. She opened the door anyway and headed in. Her mother was baking a cake and needed some sugar and Buffy needed another one of Spike's shirts. Ever since their fight, Buffy snuck into Spike's bedroom and would "borrow" one of his shirts. Since she couldn't be around him, she could at least have his smell around her. His smell was so comforting. It made her feel powerful and safe. How could a smell do that?  
  
She walked into Spike's room and eyed everything carefully. She didn't want to disturb anything. Buffy went to his drawers and pulled out a black shirt. She laid her head on it. Soft and smells like him. "Having fun, pet?" he sneered. His back was against the doorframe and his arms where crossed over his chest. A small pang erupted in Buffy's stomach. Buffy stuttered. "Sorry. You-your shirt." She was caught! Buffy looked down to her shoes and tried to pass by him. Spike put his hand in front of the doorway, so she couldn't pass. "I was wonderin' where all my bloody shirts were going. Thought I was mad." She couldn't look him in the face. "Mom just wanted some sugar," she said while feeling vulnerable. He let down his arm and looked toward his bed, not wanting to look at her. She walked out, fully embarrassed and got her sugar. "Buffy," he called out. She turned around, confused. "Here." He threw her an old black t-shirt. On the front had the words, "Fucked up Life" and a little stick figure with a cloud over his head and a thunder bold coming from that. She smiled. "Go knock yourself out." Before she walked out she softly said, "I'm sorry," knowing that he couldn't hear her. Spike smiled, "Me too." 


	17. chapter 20

"Buffy, dear, you look gorgeous," Giles said while sipping his tea. "Ya think so?" Buffy pondered while looking into the mirror for the millionth time. "Yes, honey. You are simply stunning. Now when is that boy coming to pick you up?" Joyce asked while standing behind Giles, with his hand across her waist, secretly. "Oh he's not picking me up, mom. I am meeting him at the dance. Willow and Tara are coming to pick me up," she said while smoothing the front of her dress. A knock came from the door. "They're here! I'll get it."  
  
Buffy ran to the door, despite her high-heeled shoes and opened it quickly. "Willow. Tara. You guys look so beautiful!" Buffy screeched while pulling them in for a hug. "And so do you!" Willow added while holding on to Tara's hand.  
  
Willow was dressed in an emerald green dress that went down to the floor. The flow-y material emphasized her delicate curves. It was sleeveless and the neckline was cut low, so you could see much of her freckled chest. It had a decorative piece of red ribbon bellow her breast, which matched her teardrop necklace and earrings. Her hair was wavy and held out of her face with rhinestone-studded bobby pins. Her face was done up with smoky eyeliner and rosy blush.  
  
Tara was wearing a beautiful wine colored spaghetti stringed dress, to the ground, with lace up the sides of her torso. It was draped beautifully over her curvy body. Her soft, honey brown hair was pulled back loosely into a low ponytail and secured with a real magnolia. Tara's makeup was done heavenly with neutral colors and accentuated her pouty lips.  
  
Buffy was sporting a white, strapless brocade top and a flared satin white skirt that hit the ground. Her tanned body glowed with the snow-white cloth contrasting against it. Her make up was done light, but made her beautiful hazel eyes shine vibrantly; iridescent pearl eye shadow covered her eye lids Her lips were coated with a tint of pink and her face was radiantly golden. Her hair was down and coated her dainty shoulders.  
  
"Mom, Giles, I am off," Buffy said before giving both of them hugs. "I am going to stay over at Willow's and Tara's after the dance. I will be home tomorrow." Giles put his arm around Joyce's back, for support. She seemed a little misty eyed. "Okay dear. Giles and I will be here or at the art gallery if you need us." Buffy saw the glint in her mother's eye, "Mom, I promise I will be okay. It's just a dance and you have Giles to keep you company, since Spike is out with that ho-Harmony." Tara became aware of the emotions running across Buffy's face when she talked about Spike. Something was going on with the two, she could tell.  
  
Giles looked at his watch. "Ah, off you go. The dance starts soon." Willow smiled, "But we have to be fashionably late. It's how everyone does it now." Tara shook her head, "Yea, Mr. Giles, it's the cool new thing." Buffy giggled. "Let me go get a jacket and then we we'll go." She went into the closet and pulled out a snuggly sweatshirt, "So is Oz going?" Willow frowned. "Nope, he has some gig in town. He said it was too important to miss. This one was actually paying." "Damn! That's a first." Buffy gave her mom a kiss, "Love you guys." And they were off.  
  
"Why do you have that sweatshirt on? It's not that cold outside," Tara asked while walking down the stairs. "I just feel so exposed, but when we are at the dance, with the dark lights, I'll feel better."  
  
"Hey Buffy. You look great," Parker said while bringing her hand up to his lips and kissing it. She blushed, "Thank you. You look good, too." He smiled and asked, "Do you want a drink?" Buffy nodded and Parker headed over to the punch table. Buffy sat down on the "Wall Flower" chairs and gazed upon the crowd. Everyone looked so beautiful and elegant. Everyone seemed to have so much fun. Why wasn't she?  
  
"Hey Parker," Harmony said in a sigh. "Hey Harm, what's up?" He was very interested. She sighed dramatically. "It's just this dance. It's so-so- so..." Parker cut in, "Boring?" She smiled, "Exactly. Everyone is so formal and goody-goody. It's not any fun." She winced, "And my date is too much of a gentleman. He won't even ravish me!" Parker filled up a cup with red punch. "If you were my date, I would manhandle ya." She smiled and touched his arm. In a sexy, husky voice she answered, "I know." She took him by the hands, leading him over to a dark corner. She winked and brought his face up to hers. She just held it for a while before whispering in his ear. "I hate that Buffy chick and I saw what she did to you during your own party. I know my Blondie bear likes her and I think she likes him. Wanna make them jealous?" She nibbled on his ear. "Payback's a bitch," he said while taking his hand and inching it's way up her dress.  
  
It had been at least an hour since Buffy saw Parker. He handed her the drink and then walked off somewhere saying something about his friends. She was getting more worried than annoyed. She hoped he was all right.  
  
Buffy looked around for Parker. Where was he? She walked over to Willow and Tara. "Have you guys seen my date?" she asked while holding her long skirt in her hands, so she wouldn't trip. "Nope, sorry," Willow said while her arm was around Tara's back. "I think I saw him over by the bleachers," Tara added. "Thanks you guys." She walked over to the bleachers and bumped into two people making out. "I'm so sorr," Buffy said before realizing who it was. "Parker?" she asked. "What, bitch?" he snapped while Harmony was still sucking on his earlobe. "Harmony?" she asked, still in shock. She stopped sucking on his ear and turned around in her face. "Payback's a bitch, sweetheart!"  
  
Buffy was still stunned. Parker and Harmony? For how long? "Why?" Parker rolled his eyes. "I heard you were easy –a real slut!" Buffy's eyes were about to overflow with tears. People thought she was a slut? Why? How? Harmony stepped in, "Yea, dyke, so he got a real slut." She thought about that for a second, "Wait. No. So he got me! So there." Harmony stood on her tiptoes so she could look Buffy in the eye. "I already used Spike up. He's not as good as you think. I mean...good in the bed. A pure wild man, but he's too clingy. You get my trash."  
  
Before Buffy turned and walked away, she slapped Harmony across her face, leaving a stinging red handprint. Then she kicked Parker in the groin, again, and punched him in the face. She ran away, not able to say anything, tears stinging her eyes. She looked back, to see if the couple were following her, but she ran into something.  
  
"Ugh," she said while hitting a hard chest. His hands where at her waist, fingers rubbing little circles on her dress. She looked up with tears running down her face and saw the hottest guy alive –Spike. Spike was dressed in a black pair of slacks with a ruby silk shirt, with the top three buttons unbuttoned. His hair was slicked back with gel, but the ends were curly. He looked devilishly handsome. Buffy's mouth watered at how beautiful he looked. Buffy never thought a man was beautiful before she met Spike. His features were of a god's.  
  
Spike stared at the beauty that so civilly ran into him. She was so stunning. How could he ever get mad at her? Buffy was so ethereal. She must have been a Greek goddess in another life. The way Buffy was dressed made her look like an angel, but an angel who can kick ass. Even though she was pure, she was so sexy. Spike's head filled up with many different naughty thoughts. 'Stop it, bloke. This is a queen in front of ya'. You need to treat her like' on' too...bloody hell she's gorgeous.'  
  
His thumbs wiped away the tears on her face. "Shh, love. 'S matter?" His hands caressed her face, and held it so she would have to look into his deep blue eyes. He wanted to kiss her so bad. Everything in his body ached for her touch. "Parker told me that I was easy and then Harmony started saying some shit about you and it made me so ma," she said being cut off by a fast, tender kiss. Her lips were still tingling from the kiss. Her knees felt week. She touched her lips and looked up at him mystified. He smiled and ran his fingers through her hair. She wanted him at that moment. Buffy would do anything just to be close to him. She just wanted to be in his arms. "I'm so sorry, Spike. I never knew about-and I was just acting like such a bitch and-I am just so sorry. Can you ever forgive me? I mean, I understand if you don't. I am-I never knew. And the no speaking between us was so hard because I only wanted you-and I felt so lonely and I-I am so sorry." He smiled again. "'S okay, love. It's ov'r now." He ran his thumb over her bottom lip. "Wanna dance?" All she could do was nod.  
  
He took her into his hands and literally swept her off her feet. Spike was such a good dancer and so graceful for a man. When they would look into each other's eyes, the world would just melt away. And all that was left was the two of them, so wrapped up in each other. She nestled her head on his chest and brought her hands to the nape of his back.  
  
"I like this," he whispered, making her ear tickle with his sexy accent. She frowned and stared into his eyes. "Spike, we can't-we can't do this," she said her eyes watering, but Spike didn't notice it. "What do you mean, love?" She sighed and pulled away. "Us. We can't have an us." His features got confused and his heart felt like it was going to shatter. "What?" She put on a plastic smile. "It's just that." She paused and looked away, "I'm sorry, William." She closed her eyes and walked away.  
  
Her world felt empty all ready. Why in the hell did she just do that? She didn't know! Spike felt just as puzzled. His heart was broken. He could die right there. 


	18. chapter 21

"I like this," he whispered, making her ear tickle with his sexy accent. She frowned and stared into his eyes. "Spike, we can't-we can't do this," she said her eyes watering, but Spike didn't notice it. "What do you mean, love?" She sighed and pulled away. "Us. We can't have an us." His features got confused and his heart felt like it was going to shatter. "What?" She put on a plastic smile. "It's just that." She paused and looked away, "I'm sorry, William." She closed her eyes and walked away.  
  
"What do you bloody mean?" he asked, his voice overflowing with emotion. She turned around and exposed the tears from her face. She wished it could be easier. "You-You deserve someone better than me. Someone who isn't afraid of your touch. Who can give you your needs, with out being terrified. Someone who can make you happy." He looked incredulous. "Buffy, you make me happy. When I am around you-I have never been so blissful in my sodding life! It's because of you!" He held her face in his hands. "I need you Buffy. The last weeks was the worst week of my life with out you. I'm drowning in you, Summers! I'm drowning and you 're the only one to save me."  
  
She couldn't breathe and her legs felt faint. Even though her eyes let out tears, she smiled and hugged Spike. "Thank you. Thank you," she repeated. She grabbed his face and pulled it close to hers. The kiss started slow and gentle, but became passionate and loving. The need to breathe reluctantly was granted as the two pulled away from each other, panting. They placed their foreheads together and smiled.  
  
"Now what did Harmony bloody say about me?" he asked while pulling Buffy close to him. They were sitting on the couch at Giles. Buffy was in Spike's shirt, while Spike was just in his sweat pants. Home from the dance, they were both tired and sleepy. "This is like the thousandth time I have told you. I know it hurts your manliness and your male ego, but can't you just get over it all ready?" Spike put his hand over her shoulders put his head on her chest. "Nope. Can't." She sighed. "She said that she already used you up and that you were too damn clingy. But she said that you were wild in bed. And that I get her trash." She smiled, "But your such cute trash." He kissed her again, slipping his tongue past her lips. She broke away fast. "Sorry, it-it was just- I'm-I'm not ready for that yet," she said biting her lip. "It's okay. I understand." He kissed her on the forehead, and they drifted off to sleep, in each other's arms.  
  
"I still don't bloody know why you won't tell your mom," Spike said slightly annoyed that his girlfriend of three weeks wouldn't tell her mother about them. "I'm sorry sweetie. I am not one bit ashamed of you; it's more of an 'I don't know if my mom can handle her daughter dating a boy'. Now that I think of it, at least I am not gay. I wonder if that is how I should open the statement. 'Mom, just be thankful I am not gay!'" she said while combing her hair. "It's okay love. I understand why you haven't told her, but I just want to shout it on the bloody rooftops and other nancy boy things like that. " She smiled. "I know ya' do. The time will come sooner or later. I am thinking of my birthday that way, she couldn't really get that mad at me, ya know?" He thought for a moment. "Guess so, pet. Don't know how anyone could get mad at ya' though. Your so bloody cute!" 


	19. chapter 22

"I know it's not a lot, Buffster, but...happy birthday!" Xander said while blowing one of those annoying kazoos. Anya struck him in the stomach with her elbow. "That's very aggravating, so stop. We got you presents, because that is the ritual. So open the presents now!" Xander put his arms around Anya, "Calm down, honey. It's not time to open the gifts yet." She frowned, "Oh."  
  
Willow and Xander planned Buffy's whole party. It was hard to keep it a surprise from Buffy, since it was at her house. But they managed and she was very shocked. Her living room was decorated in streamers and confetti. Tara even made a wonderful dinner and cake. Buffy almost cried on how much they truly cared. Her friends back home would never do this.  
  
"It's wonderful you guys. I never expected any of this. Thank you so much!" she said while hugging everyone. "This birthday is great. I have the sweetest friends and-and do I smell chicken alfredo? Yes, I do. Oh my God! I have to have some, NOW!" Buffy was so excited. Tara gave Buffy a bowl full. She took a bite into her mouth and moaned. "Oh my God! I have never had anything in my mouth that tasted this good. Tara, oh my God, you are becoming my cook!" She ate up her delicious dish in seconds and went on to the cake.  
  
"Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear Buffy. Happy birthday to you," they all sang. It sounded like a choir of dieing cats or cows –something in pain and howling. The flames flickered to and fro. It made haunted shadows on Buffy's face. She was reminded of Angel for some odd reason. A slight chill from an open window sent shivers down her spine. She blew the candle out, with much moral support from her friends. It left her in the dark.  
  
"What was that?" Xander cried while being in the dark. It sounded like a door was being opened and then closed hard. "It's okay ya' poofter," Spike said while standing behind the seated Buffy. Buffy was freaking out. "Oh- okay. Time to turn the lights back on. Like now! Right now. Turn the lights on," she babbled. Anya turned on the lights and clapped her hands. "Okay, present time!"  
  
Buffy sat on the couch, her legs underneath her. Xander was sitting in the reclining chair with Anya in his lap. Tara and Willow were sitting on the floor and Spike was relaxing with his back against the sofa. "The anticipation is killing me," Anya said while jumping up and down on Xander's lap. Willow handed her a brilliantly wrapped gift. The wrapping paper was metallic silver with black swirls all around. On top of the gift was curly ribbon that reminded Buffy of a poorly made paper wig. Buffy traced the swirls on the package. "If you do not open it now, I will open it for you," Anya said harshly. Xander patted her on the back and gave Buffy an apologetic smile. She tore the paper off the gift and gasped.  
  
"Oh my God!" Buffy screamed. "It's Scooby!" She tore apart the plastic holding the slippers together. She put them on her feet. "They are so cute! And they are keeping my tootsies all nice and warm." She unwrapped the other thin gift that was inside the bigger one. "Awwww. It's so cute! It's a little dream diary. And a fuzzy pen!" She tickled the back of Spike's neck. "It's fuzzy!" She walked over to Xander and Anya. "It's the cutest!" Anya smiled, "I got you the dog slippers because I know how Xander hates my cold feet pressed up against his hot naked body." Her eyes got hazy and she bit her lip. "Anyway, I thought Spike could enjoy your feet warm, when you're in bed together." Buffy blushed at the thought and looked at Spike. He had been so understandable about the having no sex thing. She wasn't ready yet. Honestly she didn't think she would ever be ready. Sex wasn't just a past time or something you did because you were bored. Sex was a passionate bond between two people. Buffy didn't know if she was prepared for that commitment, that connection. "Thanks Anya. I think he will appreciate it." She hugged both of them. Anya whispered into Xander's ear, "Be proud. I didn't even get jealous when she groped you for way to long." Xander sighed. "It wasn't a grope. It was a friendly hug."  
  
Willow handed Buffy another present. "Open. Open. It's Tara's and mine!" Buffy smiled at the love between Willow and Tara. They were so lucky.  
  
She shook the present and heard a jingle. She tore open the covering and eyed the gorgeous object that laid on her lap. "Oh my god." She picked up the frame. She traced her fingers over the smooth cherry stained wood. In the frame had a picture of all of her friends –Willow, Xander, Tara, Anya, and Spike. "It's beautiful. When did you guys-It's great. Thanks." She hugged Willow and Tara. Her eyes got a little misty after that.  
  
"Sorry Oz couldn't be in the picture or be here. His parents, which I never even knew he had, found out about the whole band groupie thing and that girl Veruca, who "accidentally" drugged his drink and made him do the wacky," Willow said babbling. "Is he okay?" She shook her head, "Kind of. I think he had an allergic reaction to the drug she gave him. He's in therapy now." Some "Oh's" came from the group followed by silence. "More presents!" Buffy said trying to end the awkward quiet.  
  
Willow picked up a small box from the kitchen table, where all the gifts had been. "I don't-Hey Spike did you get this for Buffy?" She threw him the box. "Nah, why, Red?" She shrugged, "I haven't seen it before. Maybe its like Giles or Joyce's." She sat down by Tara again. "Here ya go Buffy." She smiled and unwrapped the box. It looked like one of those velvet boxes that you put rings in it. She opened the black wanna-be-velvet box. A ring. Wait, hasn't she seen that ring before? She took it out and looked at it. "Hey, Xan, turn that lamp on right beside ya', please."  
  
When he brightened up the room, Buffy dropped the ring on the hardwood floor. That was Angel's ring –his family initials. It was silver, but on top it had a black square that had the letters "L O A", Liam Angelus O'Connor. He got that ring for his sixteenth birthday from his father. Angel never took that ring off. Buffy even asked to try it on once, but he didn't dare. So if she had his ring that meant two things: He was either dead or... He couldn't be watching her, could he? Angel was in jail for many years. Why now? Why now.  
  
"Buffy? Are you alright?" Spike asked, playing with her hair. "Hm, what?" She looked around all faces were on her. "Are you okay?" Willow asked. "Yea perfectly fine. A little woozy." The ring was still on the floor. Maybe she just hallucinated the initials? It could happen, right? "Are you sure you're okay?" Xander insisted. "Yea, but ya know...ice cream sure is sounding magically delicious right about now. Who's up for some milky goodness?"  
"Are you sure you're gonna be soddin' okay?" Spike asked. Everyone went home, tired from all the fun and games. Buffy had been acting weird, which was understandable because of the ring. She didn't tell anyone that it looked exactly like Angel's. It could have just been a coincidence?  
  
"Spike, I swear that I will be fine. I just got shaken up with all the sugar and surprises and everything. I promise." She was playing with the hem of her shirt. She did that when she was lying. "Do you want me to stay here until your mum comes home or you can come ov'r 'ere and we can." Buffy cut in with a short, reassuring kiss. "I'm fine. I swear. If I get scared or anything, I will call you. I am fine, really. And by the way, I really love my gift you gave me. It's so beautiful." He smiled, "Not as half as beautiful as you." Spike gave Buffy a stunning silver bracelet that looked much like his own. In amongst all the silver was a string of gold. "Thank you Spike, for everything." He smiled and kissed her one last time before he went over to his own bed.  
  
Buffy quickly went to her bed to slumber and hopefully, not think of anything related to Angel. It was just too much to think that he was out of jail and in London. She didn't even want to considered that he was watching her or, even worse, in her house. What if she was just imagining everything? What if she told someone and they put her in a straitjacket? What if ...No she had to stop with the "what if's". They just led to more badness. 


	20. chapter 23

"I haven't told mom yet," Buffy said sheepishly while staring off into space. If you asked anyone, Buffy had been acting weird ever since her birthday, three days ago. She was jumpier than normal and she looked tired. "'S okay," Spike said trying not to put too much feeling into it. He was truly hurt that she hadn't told anyone. Well, her friends somewhat knew, but Giles and Joyce didn't know. Was she embarrassed of him? Why couldn't she tell? It was eating him alive. "Do you wanna go out tonight?" he asked trying to sound nonchalant. "Not really," she said as a whisper. She had a bad feeling about tonight. She didn't want to be alone; something was going to happen. She could feel it. "Well, ther' is this big game comin' on 'nigh' and everyone 's goin' o'r to Xander's to watch it. Ev'rones gonna be there. Ya sure?" She nodded her head reluctantly, "You go, seems like fun." She looked down at her hands. She was playing with them. "Ya sure?" he asked. "Yea," she looked away from his face. "I'm sure. Have fun." She put on a plastic smile and left. No kiss. No hug. Nothing. Spike knew something was up.  
  
Buffy laid on her bed. She was in that in-between-sleep-and-awake place. She really wished Spike were here. Maybe he didn't like the fact that he wasn't "getting any." Some guys get really mad and come up with a case of "Blue Balls". Angel had told Buffy this. She didn't feel sorry one bit. She actually tried to look up that "disease" on the Internet, but found no information about it. Buffy believed the "Blue Ball Disease". Maybe she should have sex with Spike so he wouldn't rape her. 'If you aren't sexually frustrated, then there is no need for rape,' Buffy thought.  
  
"Hello," a voice called from her doorway. Spike! Spike? Wait that wasn't Spike's voice. "Lover..." he added. Her eyes opened wide and her mouth, too. They both formed little fruit loop O's. "A-A-Angel," she said shakily. "That's right. Back and in the flesh." He picked up the small black box. "I guess you got your gift. I was hoping you'd find it." She scooted back to her backboard and took her duvet covers and bunched it close to her. "Didn't think I could let'chya be alone for your birthday, did ya?" He took three steps and relaxed his back against her closet. "Sorry I'm late. Well, wasn't exactly late. I was here for your birthday. Cute group of friends you have. They are..." He took a glass paperweight in his hands and tossed it back and forth, "Different." He began to toss the weight again. Buffy didn't dare speak. She had learned early on, the hard way, not to interrupt him while he was speaking. "I have the feeling, Buff, that you don't care about me anymore. Is that true?" She just stared at him, not moving, not speaking, just listening intently. "You're not answering me. I thought I have established that when I ask a question, you answer." He threw down the paperweight, which smashed into many pieces. Her hand went out for the object, Hank had gave that to her. She shrugged that thought away. His secretary probably picked it up for him.  
  
He walked over to the side of her bed, a larger, silver lighter in his hand. "You know what this is, donchya?" he asked sarcastically. Her forehead distorted. What was he going to do with that? "I suppose you do. You can't be that stupid." He pulled out that black box, again, and put the ring back on his finger. "Aha. Exactly where it's supposed to be." He stuck the lighter with his jeans, making a large flame come out of the thin, metal body. He took his ring and put it directly in the fire. "My dad always said to mark your women. You ran away so quickly, Buff. I didn't have my chance! Forgive me?" He grinned evilly and pulled back the jumbled up blanket. "Ya look different." She was in shock. Buffy didn't move just stared off into space. She didn't even look at him. Angel got angry at the lack of attention and tore her sheet off of her. "Nice bed attire, Buff. But you know how I love you in the nude." He took two of his fingers and sexily rose up her shirt. He rubbed the skin. "Mmm. You're skin is so soft, like a peach. Fuzzy and soft." He began to light up his ring again. She bit her lip. She was frozen in fear.  
  
Angel found a nice patch of skin, just northeast of her belly button. He licked it and then slapped it. It stung. "This is going to hurt me, way more than it's gonna...what the hell? Nope. It's definitely gonna hurt you more than me." He took his ring and pressed it into her skin. It started to sizzle. She screamed in pain, but was muzzled by his hand. "Shh, lover. It will be over soon...hopefully." He shrugged and pushed his ring harder into her stomach. All of her muscles in her body tightened and she closed her eyes. Was this really happening?  
  
She must have passed out from the pain of the searing skin because when she woke up Angel was straddling her, with his hands harshly holding her upper arms. Bruises would form. She muttered, "Stop", but it came out more as S- ish groan. He started to rock back and forth on her suggestively, but nothing was penetrating. He grinned wickedly and ran one of his fingers against the collar of her shirt. His finger dipped down into the crease of her breast, but Buffy was in too much pain to feel pleasure. He rolled his eyes at her. He bent down to her lower stomach. Her muscles clenched, again, in fear of what he would do. He wouldn't go down on her. It wasn't giving him anything in return.  
  
He took his teeth and pulled her shirt up again, stopping at her breast. His hands let go of her arms and gripped her stomach. His thumbs pressed deeply into her skin. He took out his knife from his sock. He always kept it there as some sort of protection. He ran the blade down her face, the sharp edge leaving a white mark from where he pressed. He stopped at her stomach, where his fingers were. He sliced her skin. Buffy was squealing in the background, but he didn't care. He dipped his fingers into her blood. He put his fingers next to her lips. "Open up," he demanded harshly. She did what he said; she was in too much pain to fight against him. He put his finger on her tongue. (He was always weird like that) He put his knife back into his sock and got off of her. "Until next time," he said while bowing acting like some sort of demented gentleman.  
  
She heard the front door shut. Was he really gone? She walked up out of her bed and went to her own door, slowly. It took all of her energy just to reach her doorway. She stuck her head out. He was gone. She banged her head on the door and slide down it, clutching her stomach. She cried and cried, hoping this was a dream. It wasn't. She recapped the events that happened in her room. The remembrance of the blistering skin and everything made her feel nauseous. She hurled her body over, not feeling like moving. She wiped her mouth lazily with the back of her hand. Her saliva tasted like blood. She brought her knees closer to her body, making sure not to disturb her throbbing stomach, and rested her head on her knees. She fell asleep like that. Hurting. Crying. And knowing that he would be back. 


	21. chapter 24

Buffy awoke from slumber. Maybe it was all a dream? She realized where she was, the foot of her door. Guess not. She walked into the bathroom, still sore. She couldn't look at her body; it had betrayed her. She knew how to fight back, really, she did, but it felt like Angel had this silent control over her. She put her arms on the sink and looked at herself. What she saw was frightening. It wasn't the fact that she was foreign to herself, or how ghostly she got when sleep was a last priority; it was that she let Angel touch her. She could have retaliated at least in some way, but she didn't and that killed her. She felt queasy again. Buffy leaned over the toilet and she started to dry heave.  
  
She brought out paper towels to clean up the mess she made last night. She looked over at the clock; it was only six o'clock. She decided that a shower would be best for wasting time. Maybe it could get her mind off of Angel and the smell of burnt flesh off of her, too.  
  
The water trickled hard on her tender flesh. Bruises formed on her upper arms and stomach. Especially around the burn, black and blue was all that could be seen. She ran her shaky fingers through her hair, trying to turn her attention against her marked skin.  
  
She stepped out of the shower and put a towel around her; she didn't want to see her body now. It just reminded her of Angel and she couldn't handle that subject now. She was still shocked that he was out of jail and in London. Damn her life.  
  
Buffy wasn't ready for school. She just wanted to curl up into a little ball and die. She would have told her mom that she was ill, lie about some new bug going around school, but it would be too difficult.  
  
Grabbing a large, blue and white-checkered button up shirt, she put it on with a pair of sweatpants and a sports bra. Even the soft waistband shot sharp pains up her body, from hitting the burn and cut. She pulled her wet hair back, didn't bother with any makeup, and grabbed a bottle of water. All she had to do was pick up her book bag and she was off.  
  
School was worse than she imagined. Everyone was coming up to her and asking if she was okay; it was driving her insane!  
  
"Buffy, may I talk to you up here, please?" A teacher asked. Buffy reluctantly went up to the front of the room. "Is something the matter?" she asked from behind a book. "No ma'am. Nothing is wrong." The teacher sighed. "Good that is what I like to hear. Now, if I have to call your name one more time to awake you from your daydream, I am sending you to the principals office." Buffy "Ehhed." "What was that?" the teacher asked sternly. Buffy rolled her eyes and left the classroom. The rest of the students where looking up at the two conversing. They were all taking a pop quiz. Some students giggled when she left, others eyes bugged out of their heads, others couldn't care less.  
  
She stormed out of the classroom. She needed a cigarette. She had actually only experimented with them, so she was really confused on why she needed one. She went to Spike's locker and grabbed a fag and his lighter. Her hands were shaking and she couldn't even start his lighter. The lighter looked like Angel's. It brought back so many unwanted memories of "that other" night. She felt disgusted with herself, again. She ran into the men's washroom, only because it was the closest. The smell of urine and Clorox lingered in the air. Buffy definitely was going to be sick. She tried to calm herself down; all of her muscles were sore from the heaving.  
  
The feeling passed and Buffy fell to the ground. She didn't care how nasty the floor was. Sobs broke throughout her body. They were so powerful that she couldn't make a noise. She put her hands out in front of her, making sure she could get enough air. She couldn't stop it; vomit came out of her esophagus. She would have screamed from the burn, but under the circumstances she couldn't scream.  
"Don't touch me," she whispered. This time she was going to react. This time it could be different. This time she could stop him. "I said don't touch me," she said louder this time. She couldn't go through the guilt thing again. She needed to fight back even if it wasn't to protect her, just so she wouldn't feel so bad. She started to breath heavy. She was ready...wasn't she?  
  
'Buffy hadn't had a nightmare in a long time 'bout that poof', Spike thought to himself. He better wake her. He walked closer to her and her chest was moving fast –in and out. In and out. He shook her softly, "Buffy, love, wake up."  
  
She came out from sleep with her eyes wide. Where was Angel? Where...where was she? She looked around; she was on Giles' couch, but how? "You okay?" he asked. She ignored that question. "Why am I here?" she asked raspy, the acid still stinging in her throat. "You passed out in the men's washroom. Xander found you and bloody freaked. Though' you were dead." He walked up and got her a glass of water. She gulped it down. "Well I'm not dead," Buffy sighed. 'That's unfortunate,' she thought.  
  
She relaxed her head on the couch and closed her eyes. Spike got off the couch and stood a couple feet from her. He was pacing back and forth; he constantly did that when he had something to say. "Come out with it already," she snapped. "What is your bloody problem, Summers?" he asked anger rising. "I don't have one," said with a prissy-girl-attitude. "Yes you soddin' do!" He closed his eyes and breathed. "Somethin' is goin' on wi'h you. I can tell. I am no' bloody stupid! You tak' me for a' idiot!" He put his back against the wall and his head up high, trying to calm himself down. "You don't talk to me anymore," he said his voice too high then what he expected. "I as' if somethin's wrong and you deny. You deny everythin'! We are in a bloody relationship." He walked closer to her. "You have closed down. You don't talk to your friends, not to me. Are you seeing someone else?" She couldn't look him in the eye, but she shook her head "no" numbly. "Th'n what's wrong. You have to talk to me. You keep pushin' me away. An' you're gonna keep doin' that, until no one will be in your life." He paused. "Everyone is worried." She opened her eyes. "We care about you, Buffy." It was almost a whisper. She rolled her eyes. "Can you stop freakin' worrying about me, just for a second. I am fine!" she screamed. He crossed his arms over his chest, "Yea, ya look bloody fine!" She was furious. She jumped off the couch. "I don't need this. I would expect this from anyone else, but not you." She was about to walk away from him, but he wouldn't have it. He grabbed onto her upper arm, close to where here bruises were. "Let go of me," she said through clenched teeth. He didn't let go, but loosened his grip. "I said, let go of me." The end came out soft, but it still held it's threatening power. Her eyes narrowed. He just wouldn't let go. "I don't want to hurt you," she said trying to pull her arm away. His gripped tightened and inched further up her arm. She flinched from the pain of his insensitive grasp hitting her sore muscles.  
  
He noticed the flinch and eased up. He couldn't be hurting her that bad, could he? Tears welled up in her eyes. He pressed harder, to make sure that he was in control. She tensed up and turned her head sideways and squinted her eyes as if she was in pain. "You're hurting me," she said as a whisper. If Spike didn't have excellent hearing, then he wouldn't have heard it. He pulled her so that she was facing him. He took his hands off of her upper arms, but held onto one of her wrist. He observed blue marks on her arms from where he was holding her. "What that?" he inquired. She jerked her wrist out of his hands and rubbed it. "Nothing." He stared at her intensely. She sighed, "Look I am tired. Can we just talk about this later?" He didn't even hear her; he was too busy looking at the bruises. At least they looked like bruises.  
  
He ran his hand up her arm and tried to push her shirtsleeves away, so he could see her arm better, but she pulled away. "I'm tired," she strained again. She couldn't look at him.  
  
He was frustrated now. "Buffy what are you hiding?" He was being forcefully now; it was the only way to get into stubborn Buffy. "I am hiding nothing. I swear to you. " She lied. Why did she have to lie to him? She should just be able to tell the truth to him. Then he would make everything better, like he normally did. But how in the hell could he make this better?  
  
He could tell she was lying. He could see it in her eyes; her eyes told him so much. He took a hold of her biceps. "Stop it. Can't you just forget it?" She was pleading now. He shook her softly, hoping to knock some common sense into her brain. "Buffy. I will not bloody forget it. I care about you. Somethin' is bloody wrong." Her waistband, which was folded down, so it wouldn't scrape her burn, unfolded and she cried in agony.  
  
Did he hurt her? He wasn't being that rough with her. Her hand was placed on her stomach, over top of her shirt. He backed away, not knowing what else to do and watched her cry.  
  
It had been only a couple seconds, which seemed like hours to him, and he had to see what was the matter with her. He walked over to her and put his hand under her shirt. She jumped up, despite the pain. He couldn't find out. Spike would be so ashamed of her. Each step closer he took, two steps farther away she was.  
  
He caught a grasp of her shirt and pulled her near him. "Don't. Don't touch me," she screamed while trying to slap his hands away from her. He pulled her sleeve up, which uncovered her finger like marks. "What the hell..." he trailed off while tracing the purpled skin. She tried to pull away from him, but he was so much stronger than her. He got livid. Who the hell did this to her? He ripped her shirt open with enough force for the buttons to pop off. She was screaming now and tried to cover herself back up. "I told you not to touch me," she stated.  
  
Spike was stunned. Her body looked so injured and broken. She could bass as one of those battered housewives, easily. It looked like she had been through hell and back, tortured every step of the way. He had to make sure it was real. There could be a possibility that he was hallucinating. His hand reached out to touch the scorched mark on her stomach, but she pulled away. "Buffy?" he asked. She started to pound on his chest, feebly. "You have made my life so miserable," she said while straddling him to the ground. She started to cry and just slap at his chest. "You haunt me. You hurt me. Will you ever stop?" She started to break down and cry, rocking back and forth trying to calm herself. Normally Spike would enjoy a woman doing this to him, especially one that he fancied as much as Buffy, but he was in too much pain watching her be in pain to even look at her in a lustfully matter.  
  
He held onto her wrist. "Buffy. Look into my eyes. It's Spike. I'm not him." She started shaking her head and distorting her face. "Don't confuse me," she said while getting off of his body. "You never stop. Why do you enjoy make me suffer?" He forced her to look at him. "Buffy. I'm not him." She looked into his mesmerizing eyes. She felt a trance go over her. "Spike?" she whispered touching his cheekbones. He held her hand on his face, kissing her wrist. She backed up. "Don't look at me." She hid her face. "What happened?" he asked still unsure of what he saw. His voice was gentle, soothing, not harsh and upset as she thought he would act. "Your- your not disappointed? She asked looking at him.  
  
"Why would I be disappointed?" he asked while caressing her face. She moaned at the touch. "Angel..." she said looking away from him. Anger shot through his veins, but he tried to seem calm. "Wha' happened? An' you need to tell me ever'thin'." She nodded and bit her lip. 


	22. chapter 25

She told him everything, which was hard for her. "I-I-I don't know what to bloody say," he said while making lazy circles on her discolored stomach. "That's pretty amazing for you," she said with a slight grin. Her face got serious. "I'm sorry for being so distant an un-me and everything. I just, I don't know. I don't know why I couldn't tell. I was just. I was so screwed up and. Why is this so hard?" He shrugged.  
  
They were sitting on Buffy's bed, surrounding by pillows and heavy blankets. She was still shirtless, but felt comfortable around him enough to not worry about it. She was snuggled beside him. He made everything that was wrong in the chaotic world seem right. Love was visible in his eyes; he didn't need to say it because it was already there. Spike decided, even though he felt it, that he would wait to tell Buffy he loved her. This way, when she said it, she will really mean it and not be required to say it because he did. She knew that Spike loved her; whenever he looked at her, a passionate haze of love would invade her. She loved the way it felt. Buffy was scared of love. It always came back to hurt her, but with Spike she could tell it was different. Everything else was different about him, why wouldn't love be different with him too. Her body, soul, and heart were telling her that she was falling for him, but she didn't have the guts to tell him. What if he denied her? What if she wasn't giving him what he needed? What if he only loved her as a friend? There was too much at risked. She didn't want him to leave her. She loved him too much.  
  
"It's-it's getting late. Maybe you should. It's not that I don't want you to stay. It's that. Can you handle-with me? And." She paused. "Can you?" it was a whisper this time. "Buffy. I can handle bein' in bed wit' you. I am no' gonna jump your bloody bones...yet." She sighed. "Are you sure?" He exhaled noisily. "Yes I am bloody sure." He took her face into his hands. "I'll stay celibate f'r as long 's I live, just to be with you." She smiled. "I know. Thank you so much."  
  
His body was stretched out on his side. She was facing towards him, no space dividing them. Her face was positioned in his chest and took advantaged of his healing touch. "Spike. I have-I have to tell you something," she started while biting her lip. He moaned, meaning that he was listening to her. "Spike I think-I think I am in lo..." She was distracted by a door slam. Her mother wasn't supposed to be home until after midnight. She was going on a "date" with Giles to an art gallery fair.  
  
Footsteps became louder and Buffy's heart started to race. Was it Angel? Could it be? Spike awoke to her shivering. "'Re ya' cold, love?" he asked concerned. She shook her head. "Listen," she spoke softly. He heard the footsteps, too. "Ya think it's..." She silenced him with her finger on his lips. "There are more. It sounds like...two maybe three." Her door squeaked open a smidge. "Buffy?" a soft voice asked. "Willow?" A red head peaked its way out. "We're not interrupting anything, are we?" Buffy smiled, "No. You can come in."  
  
"Your-you don't have your shirt on," Tara stated while coming in behind Willow. "Spike will you hand me a shirt, please," Buffy asked while trying not to expose her stomach. He handed her a sweatshirt. She was about to put her shirt on, but was stopped by a cool hand on her stomach. She couldn't see whose hand it was because the shirt was still around her head, but she knew it wasn't Spike's. His hands were warm and cold at the same time. This hand was cold and sent chills up her body.  
  
"What happened?" Willow questioned. Buffy stuttered mumbled words. "Aha! It's that wild and kinky monkey sex! I knew it. How many times, Spike, have I told you that using candle wax as foreplay was going to hurt your partner," Willow said humor evident in her voice. Buffy still blushed at the comment and so did Tara. They were both innocent, no matter what their partners' said. "Ya' know how I am Red." He winked. "That is not the case," Buffy insisted, not really wanting her friends to think she has been having sex with Spike, but not really wanting them to know the truth. It was final...her life sucked!  
  
"So whatcya guys doing? Obviously talking to us and sittin' in my room, but I mean...yea." Tara smiled at Buffy's long-winded ability. "Everyone was really worried and especially Xander. He is really upset, particularly since he was the one who found you." Spike spoke up, "Yea. Ya' should h've seen his bloody face. 'E was so white from findin' ya in the men's room. It was damn funny." He got a nostalgic look on his face. "Good bloody times." The room went silent again. Buffy couldn't handle the glares of her friends. "Spike," she said not even looking at him. "Spike honey, will you fix us something, like a snack?" His face scrunched up. "What are you bloody..." She slapped him. "Ah. I get it. Soddin' girl talk." He got off of the bed. "See ya Glenda, Red, Buffy." Tara blushed at her nickname Spike gave her, Glenda after the Good Witch of the North from Wizard of Oz. "See ya Spikey," Willow said.  
  
"Are-Are you all right?" Tara asked while walking over to sit on the edge of Buffy's king sized bed. The blonde sighed. "Define the definition of that word please," she said dryly. "Is something wrong with me?" she asked out of the blue. Tara and Willow both gave her questioning looks. "I mean do I have a sign on my back or on my forehead that says, 'My life sucks...come add more suckage?'" The two Wicca's looked at each other. "I don't think so," Willow stated, "But I could have overlooked it. Not likely though." Tara stepped in. "Why does your life seem so overwhelming?" Buffy jumped off the bed and started to walk around her room, crazily. "I don't know," she said while extending her arms out. She almost acted drunk. "It's- It's just that. God, I hate my life!" She picked up a vase that had dead flowers in it. She slowly turned the vase upside down, watching the crispy flowers and water make a puddle on the floor. Willow and Tara were getting frightened. They have never seen Buffy act like this before. "My dad. No. No, make that -my-dead-beat- fucking-dad sent these for my birthday. He hasn't called me since I came here. He didn't-he didn't even call me after 'That Night'. Nope he just sent me a fucking card that wasn't even in his own damn handwriting." She started at the frosty, glass, green vase in her hand. It was cheap, not even worth ten bucks at damn WalMart. She could do three things to that vase. Two of them only sounded good to her ears: throw it against the wall, or crush it in her hand. She could have done both, maybe not at the same time though. The third thing was to place it nicely back on her nightstand, but that didn't sound like fun!  
  
Appalled by her father's lack of concern and not fighting against Angel, she took the vase in her right hand and threw it at the corner of the wall, so it would break on contact. She had pretty good aim for a girl her size. The container smashed against the wall. As the pieces fell to the ground, so did Buffy. Her face was in her hands, trying to control the sobs. She forgot the two lovers where still in her room. They quickly came to her side, kneeling to the panic-stricken girl. Her whole body jerked with her sobs. Her stomach was sore and tender. The girls were going to speak, but Buffy broke first. "He won't stop haunting me." She got off of the ground and went into the bathroom –she felt sick, again.  
  
Spike strolled into her room, missing the action. He had sandwich in his hand and eating it greedily. "What's up wit' all the bloody noise?" he asked, mouth full. He noticed the glass on the floor. "Did she attack again?" Spike mentally slapped himself for sounding so ill mannered. "What's wrong with her?" Willow asked, still not believing what she saw. "Don't think I h've the right ta tell ya. It's her story to tell." He took another bite and swallowed. "Don't feel personal that she hasn't told ya yet. I only know 'cause I was at th' right place at th' right time." He looked down the hall, at the bathroom door. "She-She needs help, but I don't bloody know what to do." Tara smiled at the compassion of her friend. He wasn't known to get so emotional while talking. "Do-Do you l-love her?" she asked. He chuckled. "Yea. Yea I think I do."  
Buffy was on the floor, knees curled beside her, head on Tara's lap sobbing. Willow was kindly stroking her hair. There was nothing they could do.  
  
"You guys deserve to know," Buffy said while using her arm strength to pull herself off of Tara. "You don-don't have to tell us anything," Tara insisted. She wanted Buffy to tell her story on her own volition. "I think- I think I'm ready to come out."  
  
Willow and Tara felt like they were watching a movie, just without the popcorn and the bratty kids throwing food at the screen and the privilege of hearing the "crunching" noise made when stepping on the popcorn and knowing how it was going to end...so maybe it wasn't exactly like the movie theaters. "I had a boyfriend back home. Really rich, snobby, asshole...everything you really want in a guy. Oh, I left out one thing..." She breathed deeply. "Add rapper to that list." The Wiccans were shocked. No words could come out of their mouth. "He was put into jail for his defense against me." She took of her shirt, not caring if the girls "ogled" her body. Two shaky hands reached her stomach. Buffy winced at the pain, which caused the two to draw back. "It's from Angel." Tears were flowing from her eyes. "But they look new?" Willow said. "That's because-because they are." Fear broke out on the girls' faces. "Why? How?" Buffy sighed. "I don't know." She paused and traced her finger over his "signature". "God it hurts." Desperation came over her. "Why can't it just be over?" she cried out. "Why?" 


	23. chapter 26

"Do you want me to stay with you again tonight?" Spike asked. It had been two days since Buffy had told all of her friends about the rape. Some of them didn't know how to handle it, others acted really sorry about it. Oz even suggested Buffy doing a speech about rape to the student body, telling them that they aren't alone and how to get help. She thought it was a good idea, but didn't know if she could handle having everyone know that she was raped. He pointed out that they didn't have to know she was raped. The people in her school weren't the smartest, but they could figure out the connection. She just wasn't ready yet. Maybe later or maybe never.  
  
"I don't think so. Mom is starting to get suspicious, like with the whole you sleeping over. If you were a girl, then maybe she would be okay, but since you are a hormonal guy...it's different. And I think I am okay with staying by myself." She rolled over on her stomach, with her feet crossed in the air. She looked away from her magazine and glanced over at Spike. "You have been helping me with the ass kicking skills and such, which will lead me to victory." She laughed animatedly. "I know ya bloody kryptonite," he said while pushing his body off of the bed. "Yea, Big Bad, and what's that?" He chuckled slyly and put his body on top of hers, supporting himself with his arms. He nibbled on her bottom lip that stuck out so often. He trailed down her body; placing open mouth kisses over exposed skin. He stopped right below her bellybutton, to that part of her body, the part that she was uncomfortable about, the part that Angel had so brutally violated. Her body tensed.  
  
"Spike? Spike. What are you doing?" she said unsteadily. "Don't worry, love." He placed a kiss on the button of her jeans. She couldn't feel his lips, put the pressure he put on her lower abdomen was obvious and dare she think, sensual? He leisurely ran a finger down her jeans to her bare feet. "You wouldn't!" she exclaimed, eyes wide. "Then you don't bloody know me." He sat at the edge of her feet and positioned his hand over her legs, so she couldn't budge them. He traced the outside of her foot with his index finger scarcely touching it. "Stop, stop," she cried, wriggling. "I don't bloody thin' so." Using feather light contact, he swirled around her extra ticklish spots. "Who's the Big Bad?" he asked. "Me," she concluded during laughing fits. "Wrong answer." He started to get rough, but playful. Buffy couldn't breathe; she was laughing that hard. "Fine," she started getting her lung full of air. "You're the Big Bad. You're the Big, Sexy, Bad." He nibbled on her big toe. She chuckled. "Hmmm. My extremely hot and sexy bad boy."  
  
He traveled back up her body, but stopped right above her breast. She was breathing heavily and so was he. Staring into his eyes, she licked her lips unconsciously. His eyes were clouded with desire, passion and love; hers reflected the same. Not being able to control herself, she panted, "Spike, I want you." He kissed a piece of tender flesh. "I want you to, love." This was her chance –they both wanted each other. The yearning for each other was thick in the room. She took his face in both hands and brought it up to her lips. They kissed fervidly, tongues battling, hands exploring new places that they have never searched. She reached down to the buttons of his shirt and little by little she uncovered his gorgeous torso. Placing open-mouthed kisses down his chest, she reached her objective.  
  
Spike didn't know what to do. He wanted this so bad. To be intimately connected to Buffy –the love of his life –would be the most wonderful and pure desire, he could ever have. But was she really ready or just caught up in the moment? He had to be strong, even though it went against every hormone and craving in his brain.  
  
Before she unzipped his pants he grabbed her wrist. "Buffy, I don't know..." She cut him off, "I'm ready. I want to." He was on his knees ahead of her and she was sitting with her legs behind her. Her view was right at his mid- torso. He put his palm on her cheek, stroking it gently. "I'm not," he said softly.  
  
'He doesn't want to. He doesn't want me,' she thought. 'He doesn't want me.' She backed away from him uncomfortably. "Oh," she said. He tried to speak, but she cut him off. "I think you should go now," she stated somberly. Her face showed no emotion. "I think," she paused, "you should leave." Grabbing his shirt that was beside him, he tried to retract his statement. "Buffy, it's not that I don't want..." But he trailed off when he caught a glimpse of her state. She was too tired and weak to cry anymore, too saddened to be angry, too miserable to understand. "Yea, I should bloody go." He gave her a quick kiss on her brow and left. She just sat there with her eyes closed. The door shut with a thud, but Buffy didn't even jump. 'And I didn't even say 'I love you' yet...' she trailed off.  
  
She didn't move for hours, it seemed; she just stayed on her bed thinking of what she did wrong in their relationship. "Buffy dear?" her mother called, just getting home from work. "In here." Joyce walked in her room. Something was the matter with her daughter; she could tell...it was one of those extra mother senses. "Are you alright honey?" she asked, sitting on the corner of her bed. "Yea, I'm fine, Mom." She put on a plastic smile and attempted to look happy. "I know I told you that I would be home tonight," Joyce said sadly, "But Rupert asked me to this show. It's supposed to be very good. Anyway, are you going to be okay staying here by yourself?" Buffy nodded vigorously. "Yes ma'am." Joyce sighed. "I don't know, though. There is a storm coming; looks pretty bad. I know how much you hate thunder and lightening and I would be a terrible parent to leave you unaccompanied during it." Buffy "Hmmmmped". "Mom, I'll be okay. You go have fun on your date with Giles. I'll be fine!" Joyce smiled and patted her on the leg. "Thank you sweetie. And it's not a date." She rolled her eyes. "Okay. I believe you."  
  
Chocolate and ice cream, Buffy decided, was the best cure for anything, so she took out a pint of ice cream from the freezer. "Good ol' Ben and Jerry's," she said while grabbing a spoon. The container only had a couple bites missing, which was from her big English test last week. She went to the most comfortable place in the house, her window seat. She changed into some gray sweat pants and a loose pink shirt. Comfy was definitely in this year.  
  
Her much loved baby blanket was covering her up. The storm outside was her show and even though she hated and feared the bright lights in the sky, it somewhat comforted her. The constant "tap" the rain made on the window, was her lullaby. Its melody was sweet and enchanting, more lyrical than it meant to be. Rain was seductive like that. It called you in with its simple tune, so chaste and rich, but declared you by its tribal longing. No matter what you did, once the sound got under your skin, you craved more –just that straightforward "tap tap".  
  
She was scrapping the last remains of her ice cream out of the bottom of the container when the door opened. Putting it down, she wondered if it could be Spike. 'Did I put too much into it? Maybe he does want me?' she thought. His voice rung through her ears, "I'm not." Chills erupted over her body. 'Maybe he didn't want me,' she said sadly. She still wanted him, but did she really want him sexually? Was she really ready? This was a big deal for her. 'Maybe he came back for me, knowing what an ass he had been.' She couldn't help it; no matter how upset she was at Spike, she secretly wished that he would come into her room and sweep her off her feet.  
  
Normally Spike, after entering into the Summer's home, would call out to her, but this time no voice called. "Spike?" she asked, knowing that he couldn't hear her; she could barely hear herself. "Spike?" she asked a little louder. Buffy just knew this was Spike –it had to be. A floorboard creaked right in front of her door and her heart jumped. She snuck over to the door and stood before it. "Spike?" she called when the door handle raddled. 'It's just Spike,' she ran over in her mind. Just in case it wasn't Spike (like that was a possibility), she locked the door. It wasn't a very strong lock, like a dead bolt, but it would hold up –she hoped.  
  
A deep growl came from the hallway. 'It's just Spike,' her brain squeaked. A thud came from the door. 'Okay...that is not Spike!' her common sense figured. She backed up and tried to reach for the phone, but it was too late –the door swung open. He was soaking wet, dripping cold raindrops, breathing heavily, and his eyes looked like they could shoot daggers.  
  
Oh yea...she was in deep shit! 


	24. chapter 27

'Think Buffy,' she thought while trying to get to her phone to dial 9-1-1. 'Wait! I'm in London...is it 911? Damnit!' She didn't know. Now, she was in trouble and even in more trouble than before. "Lover," Angel spat, his voice filled with repulsion. Or was it coldness, Buffy couldn't tell and she didn't think it mattered. He sashayed over to her. His appearance screaming more than "Oh yea. I can kick your ass, so give me what I want, or I can make it really painful." She stood still and closed her eyes. 'I am just dreaming. Dreaming.'  
  
He circled her, like as shark does his pray. His mouth ended up at her ear. "Don't flatter yourself, Buff. You weren't that good in bed. Been having fun with that vibrator?"  
  
On a normal day, Buffy would have bitch slapped him back into next year, but knowing what Angel is capable of, she decided not to. He bent his finger and ran it down her cheek. She didn't even lean into his touch, like she does with Spike. Her body began to tingle, but not a good tingle, more like a fear tingle. 'What is he going to do with me?' her mind wept. He laughed at her pensive front. "Don't try to think, baby. You never were good in that department. Come to think about it...you weren't really good at anything."  
  
Angel's mockery was always the worst. He knew her secrets, her fears; he knew her body...he knew everything about her, which is why it hurt. Someone who claimed to love her but didn't. He just wanted the action. "Why do you like to hurt me?" she asked quietly, finally getting the nerve to speak. He punched her in the stomach and she grabbed it in pain. While she was bent over, he grabbed her shirt, and pushed her to her knees, peeling the shirt off of her. Buffy had a slight idea of what he was going to do next. 'Just stay calm,' her mind told her. With a grip on her hair, he pushed her face foreword. Her eyes were below his bellybutton. She didn't want to look up or down, so she just closed her eyes.  
Spike saw Buffy's front door ajar. He heard struggling, cries, and growls. Spike was about to rip the poofster's head off. He loved Buffy, damnit, and nobody hurt his Buffy. He quietly, or as quiet as he could, walked over to Buffy's room. The door was opened, so he could see the terrible scene.  
  
Buffy was on her knees, bare chested. Angel, Spike guessed, was standing before her, forcing her head, which was acting lifeless in his hands, towards his unbuttoned pants. Buffy didn't look unconscious or hurt, but more frightened than Spike has ever seen a woman in his life, even his mother. Spike's heart shattered. He quickly went into Joyce's bedroom and dialed the emergency number.  
  
After giving the worker the address and the predicament, she told Spike that the police would be there in twenty to thirty minutes –enough time for hell to break loose. He enforced that it was important, but the lady told him, that they already had their hands busy with a robbery going down on Main. He kept his calm, though. He wanted to save his anger for Angel.  
  
Spike wasted no time. He appeared in front of her door, smugly, crossing his pale arms over his chest. "Am I interrupting anything, peaches?" he asked.  
  
Angel tore his attention away from his unresponsive ex-lover and looked over at the joke that was in the hallway. "Spike?" Buffy asked her voice raspy. She was shaking, cold and scared. "So, peaches, couldn't get your own bloody git, so you took mine?" Angel chuckled. "You two are..." he trailed off pointed fingers at both. "Ha. I thought she would be dwelling over me for years." Angel pulled away from Buffy, to scope out his competition. Buffy scampered away and put on a shirt.  
  
Angel swayed his way over to Spike, always making an entrance. They both analyzed each other, trying to figure out their weaker points. Spike, Angel deciphered, would be quick on his feet, but easy to knock out. Angel, Spike thought, looked like the only reasons the poof could dominate was because of his size and weight. Angel walked right to Spike, nose to nose. Examining was over and intimidation was starting.  
  
Buffy, after loading herself with a sharp knife in her waistband, she took her heavy math book (she always knew it was good for something) and crept behind Angel. She took the book over her head and was about to bring it down on his gelled head, but his hand caught her wrist. And spun her around, so her arm was behind her and she was facing Spike.  
  
"Bad Buffy," Angel scolded, putting more pressure on her wrist. "Stop," she pleaded not looking Spike in the eye. "No," he growled. He pulled her arm further behind her; she was sure it was dislocated.  
  
Spike had enough of this. The lady had said not to do anything or start anything, just stand back. But he loved this girl and she was being tortured; standing back was the farthest thing from his mind. He had to come up with a plan. He had to because this-this was his Buffy.  
  
Angel, with Buffy still in his grasp, walked Buffy away from Spike. Still having one hand free, she lifted up her shirt a little so Spike could see the knife there. He smirked, 'That was his Buffy.' They shared a loving glance, and Buffy, even though her anger was revolved with him showing up, knew that he still wanted her. They were thrown out of their thoughts when Angel spoke. "Really, Buff, you should get over me already. It has been more than half a year since our wonderful love affair." She got the courage to speak, only because Spike was there and could protect her. "It wasn't an affair. And it wasn't wonderful. You raped me, Angel." He snorted. "Not this again! It wasn't rape." He rotated her around to face him. "You were asking for it. You were the one shaking your ass in those leather mini skirts and wearing those tight midriffs." She high kicked him in the chest. He fell more from the shock, than the blow. She straddled him and began to punch him in the face. "I-I am not the victim!"  
  
After a couple hits, he clutched her middle and pulled him off of her. He punched her in the stomach, again. When she was bowed over, he kneed her in the neck. She rolled on the floor and gasped for air.  
  
Spike, on the other hand, was searching for a gun or just something, anything. Neither Joyce nor Giles had a pistol. They were just going to have to fight with what God gave them, their body.  
  
"Tell me you love me!" Angel screamed while hitting Buffy in the face. "I know you love me. Tell it to me." Blood trickled down her mouth and her throat. "I don't love you," she said while spitting blood in his face. "Why you little..." He lifted up his hand to punch her, again, but Spike grabbed it. "Sorry, peaches, but I was taught never to hurt women." Angel snorted. "She is anything, but a woman! A slut, maybe, bu..." He was cut off by Spike's fist. He tried to react, but Spike was too quick.  
  
Spike was attacking Angel with all his might. He was stronger than Spike had expected. He was more experienced, but cocky, so Angel lacked in his overall fighting performance. He truly hated this man and not only because of what he did to Buffy, but of his aura around him. Spike sensed some evil lurking around in his brain.  
  
"Don't you ever call Buffy a slut!" Spike yelled from deep in his throat. Angel tried to kick Spike, but he blocked. "You annoy me, child," Angel retorted. Angel found Spike's Achilles' heel –his knee.  
  
When Spike was younger, around thirteen, his father beaten him to the point where he couldn't move his legs. It was later found out, that his ligaments in his legs are very tight, and snap easily, resulting in a sprain. Ever since, his knee was known to give out. His knee would pop out of socket and just collapse.  
  
"Bloody hell," Spike said as he crumpled to the ground. 'Great time for my bloody knee to give out!' he thought. Angel went straight for Buffy. She was crawling for her knife, which she flung under her bed, without his knowledge. Blood was blurring her vision and stinging her eyes. He grabbed her waist and pulled her off the floor. "I know you love me, Buffy," he said while pulling him into his lap. She was struggling to get his hands away from her. "I never loved you," she said disgust dripping from her words. He pinned her down to the ground, pressing deeply into her skin with his hands. "And how the fuck would you know what love is?" Buffy used her right leg to kick his torso off of her. "Because," she motioned towards Spike and their eyes locked, "I am in love with Spike." She paused and anger flooded her voice. "And what I had with you was never, ever like what we had." Buffy turned back to Spike. Smiling she said, "I'm so much in love with you." Angel faked a gag. "This is sick!" He pushed Buffy out of his way. She hit the floor with a thump and she cried out. He went up to Spike. "I've had enough of you." He took Spike, who was still on the floor from his incident with his knee, up in his hands and began to punch him senseless. "She made my life miserable. Put me in jail, with all those butt rappers." Spike smiled, "You didn't drop the bloody soap, did you? You always looked like a gay poof to me." Angel growled deeply. "Better watch this, Buff." He took Spike and kicked him across the room. "Not so smug now, are you?" Angel lifted him up by his shirt. "She deserves to have everything in her life ripped away from her." Spike rasped, "No one soddin' deserves that, peaches." Angel laughed. "Whatever, mate!" Spike's feet were off the ground. Angel walked, with Spike in his hands, over to her wall. "She put me through hell." He pushed Spike against the surface, letting his head slap hard against the wall. "I am just putting you out of your misery." He threw him against the wall again. He let go of his shirt and Spike slipped down the wall, his eyes rolled in the back of his head. Buffy screamed. "You bastard! I hate you, fucking bastard!"  
  
She pealed herself from the floor and ran over to Spike. She checked his pulse; he still had one. Buffy, she decided, had two choices. She could either cry over Spike or kick Angel's ass for hurting the man she loved. Buffy liked the second choice. "I am not the victim," she shouted. She ran at him, knocking him down to the ground. She put all the stress and worries and pain, back on him. "I hate you," she whispered, but came out as a harsh breath. Punching him in the face, her knuckles began to bleed. Or was it Angel's blood? She couldn't tell. "This is for making my life shitty!" she said while raising him off the ground and pushing him back down with a swift kick. "This is for breaking my mother's heart!" she stabbed, making him stand up again and punching him in the gut. "This is for Spike!" she said while punching stepping on his toe and punching him in the face, again. "And this-this is for me!" She kneed him in the crotch with as much force as she could master.  
  
Angel knelt down on the ground, cupping his balls. "You bitch!" He stiffed the pain and got up, tears in his eyes. He grabbed her upper arms and shook her ruthlessly. "I will kill you!" he said a serious look on his face. She believed him. He could kill her.  
  
The ambulance and police walked up the stairs to their flat. "Room 1452, this is it!" called an officer. He kicked the door open. Gun loaded, he walked in. He heard screams coming from down the hall. He rushed over, gun still in hand, and opened the door.  
  
'The knife!' she reminded herself. She ducted one of his punches and grabbed the knife that was under her bed. She placed it by her breast, pointing towards him. He launched at her, unaware of the knife. Murder was in his eyes. His eyes bugged open; he screamed in pain as the knife sliced through his skin. He clutched the knife; blood formed around his hands, and fell to the ground.  
  
Buffy ran over to Spike. His eyes were closed. She sat over on her legs and rocked back and forth.  
  
The police ran over to Angel. They checked his pulse. With a head gesture, men in white coats put Angel on a stretcher. "Take him. He's loosing blood fast."  
  
Tears were rolling down her face, making a salty puddle on Spike's chest. Her bottom lip trembling, she cried, "Please Spike. I love you. It has taken me so long to say it –don't leave me now. Please. Don't leave me. I-I- I need you."  
  
Giles and Joyce were chuckling softly over the play they just saw. They saw a white stretcher go up their apartment. "Giles?" she asked fear in her voice. His heart sped up faster in his chest. "Buffy!" he cried running up the stairs not caring about the yellow tape.  
  
They walked into Joyce's flat terrified. She ran into Buffy's room and her breath caught in her throat. "Buffy?" she asked. The small girl hurdled over Spike, her head on his chest and her hand entwined with his. "He left me too," Buffy said softly. Her eyes stared blankly at the floor. "But he hasn't left yet, so why isn't he with me?" She started to beat on his lower chest. "Be with me! Be with me, damnit!"  
  
Giles lifted the unwilling girl into his arms and drug her off of Spike. "Buffy, love, calm yourself." Horror clouded her face. "Don't you dare!" She slapped his hands off of her and fell to the ground. She crawled over to Spike and kissed his forehead. "I love this man and you are asking me to..." a stranger caught her off.  
  
"Ma'am. We need to get both of you to the hospital." She nodded dully and got to her feet. Giles and Joyce were still in shock –Buffy just said the "L" word...and to Spike! 


	25. chapter 28

Buffy was sitting in the blue cushioned chair, her face masked in worry. Her knees were pulled into her chest. She had never felt this way before –not even when Angel raped her. Tears weren't even flowing from her eyes anymore, they were all dried out, but wet paths trailed from her eyes, down her pale cheeks. Her head was pounding and her muscles were sore, but they didn't matter. All that mattered was Spike. Her love. Her lover. Her soul mate. Her...life.  
  
Seconds blurred into minutes. Minutes bleed into hours. Buffy wasn't quite sure how long she was there. All she knew was that Spike wasn't there with her. No one was with her –not Giles, her mother, or her father. She was alone, once again.  
  
Giles was really worried about Buffy. She looked frozen in time, like a painting that reflected a deathly ill child. She, surely, wasn't thinking when she said she loved Spike. It was a slip of the tongue, perhaps. She couldn't love his nephew. His selfish, annoying, badass nephew. Yes...he loved Buffy; how could he not? But just the thought of Spike touching her or kissing her or, God forbid, taking her to bed –forcing her to do things she wasn't ready to do –just made him ailing. He heard of how William treated his women, like sluts. That poor girl, Drusilla, didn't know what hit her when she started to date William. She was currently in a mental institution, out of her head and mind; believing in spirits and a talking doll!  
  
Joyce sat on the vinyl chairs, her legs together with her hands folded in her laps. She seemed out of place or rather felt it. Her daughter, her only child, has been having God knows what with her lover's nephew. She should have seen it coming. She heard, from Rupert, what happened with Parker. What he called her, what he did and so on. In her eyes, Buffy would always be her little girl, and could never see her go through an episode like that –this –ever again.  
  
Buffy's head was swirling with what just happened; it was too much to take in. Too much pain and too much hurt and too much loss –loss of self, loss of mind, loss of a part of her. Spike. All she could think about was Spike. She finally had enough courage to enounce her love, and then...he went. He's not here...with her. He's somewhere else...not with her. All that mattered to her is if he was with her or not. And he wasn't. So she was in the chair. Spike not found. And she was hurting –physically and emotionally.  
  
She fiddled with a very interesting string hanging from her dirty shirt. It didn't consume her mind, though. It was off thinking of other things. Other things about Spike. Oh yea. She was head over heels.  
  
The doctor came in with his covered shoes on. His head was hung low and he was messing with his hands. Buffy leaped from her chair and stood before him, as if it was her judgment day. "Ho-how is he?" she asked, not sure if her voice would actually come out of her mouth. "I'm-I'm sorry," he paused. "H-he didn't make it. He lost too much blood and his heart stopped. We tried all we could, but..." he trailed off staring at the young girl. She numbly shook her head. "If there is anything we could do, don't hesitate to even..." Joyce went behind Buffy and placed her hands behind her back to support her. "Thank you, doctor?" He extended his hand out, "Bradley. Doctor Bradley." She smiled warmly and shook his hand. "Thank you, Doctor Bradley." Joyce nudged her daughter's back, forcing her to say something, but all she did was nod her head.  
  
He was dead. Buffy pushed away her mother's arms and went after the doctor. "Dr. Bradley." He turned around and smiled. "Yes?" She looked away from his glance. "How is-how is," she paused to control herself. "How is Spi-William Worthington doing?" His smile grew. "He's doing fine. He had a minor concussion, but is slowly recovering." She let out a long sigh of relieve. Her mind was doing the jig. "Can I-can I go see him now?" She bit her lip. Inside, she was pleading so hard. "I'm not supposed too..." his mind mused out loud. "Are you immediate family?" She shook her head, but answered anyway. "I love him, sir." He nodded his head. "I thought so. That look in your eyes. I remember that look." He put his hand on her shoulder. "Yes. You may see him. His room number is 932."  
  
She walked away slowly, repeating the number in her head. "He loves you, too. Ya' know," he said before disappearing out of site. She turned around –searching for the doctor's face, but he was gone.  
  
She stood outside elevator door. She pressed the button up. Nothing came. She pressed it again. Nothing came. She kept pressing and pressing and pressing, until a cool hand placed itself on hers. "Whoa there missy," the deep voice said. Buffy looked up at the man. He was a heavy black guy, with an old fashion boulder cap on. Closing her eyes she shook her head. "It won't go," she said as if she was a child. He chuckled, "Be patient, my dear. You know what they say, don't ya?" She shook her head no. "No? Well, they say, 'All good things come to those who wait.' And lemme' tell you something...it's true." She pondered the man for a second. The door opened for the elevator and they stepped in.  
  
"Nine, please," she stated. He nodded warmly and started to whistle a tune. "I'm Charley, Charley Watson." She replied, "I'm Buffy." He smiled. She started to edge her way away from him. He chuckled a deep laugh. "Are you scared of me, girl?" She didn't answer. "Well...I'm far from scary." The door to the elevator opened and he stepped out. His back was facing her, but his head was tilt a little toward her. "You-you can't be afraid of everything in life, Buffy." He paused. "That's no way to live." Then, Charley walked out of the way of the doors. Before the doors closed, though, she caught a glimpse of the man; the man who taught her so much in so little time.  
  
She was on floor nine, fast. The smell of Clorox and urine filled the air. She felt sick.  
  
She paced in front of his door. She traced the numbers of it. Nine. Three. Two. 'You can do this,' she said unto herself many times. Opening the door slowly, she tiptoed in. She saw a Spiked bed.  
  
"Hey love," he rasped. She smiled and ran over to him, hugging his head and kissing him with all her might. "Breath," he stated. Buffy let go quickly, apologizing while sitting down into a chair beside his bed. "How are you?" she asked. "I should be asking you the same thing," he said. She looked away from his eyes when his hand crept up her shirt to find Angel's mark.  
  
"I missed you," she said taking a grasp of his hand in hers. "Me too."  
  
An awkward pause settled between them. "I'm sorry," she said pushing tendrils of curled hair out of his face. "Me too," he said, but was sushehed by her finger on his lips. "No. Me first. I didn't mean-Well what I mean to say is. Uhh. When you told me no, I felt really bad. I felt that you didn't want me. And it hurt." He coughed. "I always want you, Buffy." She smiled, but slapped his hand. "Shh. My turn to talk. Anyway. I was being so bitchy and controlling. I just-I just love you so much and then..." He cut her off with his lips on hers. He broke away, leaving her speechless. He smiled inwardly. 'Yea. I still have it.' He sighed. "Buffy, love, I'm sorry I made you feel that way. It's just that. I wanted it to be all vanilla and all that rot. Ya know, perfect. For you. Because, Buffy Summers, I love you."  
  
She squealed in delight and attached her lips back to his. "I'm so happy, Spike!" she said between breaths. They stared into each other's eyes. "You were gone for too long," she confessed. "'Didn't mean to," he mumbled. She got up from her chair and grabbed a cup. Pouring the glass of water for herself, made her shaky hands evident. "Wh'ts wrong?" he asked, faced masked in worry. She sat on the edge of his bed. "Nothing." She took a nervous sip of water. "Please...love, tell me what's wrong."" I  
  
She put her cup on the table and started to fidget with her shirt. "It's- it's," she started, not being able to get the words out. "Tell me," he demanded softly. She sighed. "Angel's dead," she stated sadly. "Why so glum, 'bout that, pet?" She looked away from his eyes. "Because...I killed him." He didn't hear her. "What?" he asked. "I. Killed. Angel," she said over a trembling lip. "So?" he asked. "So?" she jumped up. "So! I killed a man. A human. There is one person less on the earth because of me. I have his blood on my fucking shirt. I killed him, Spike. I killed him in...cold blood." He urged her to sit back down. "He tried to kill you, kitten. And me, too. If your mum would've been there, he'd bloody well tried to kill her too." He pushed back a piece of hair. "He's a killer, love." She sighed. "I know. I know he's a bad person, but. But, I still killed him." His hand went to her face, his thumb tracing under her eye, "Love. Look at me. You didn't kill him. You bloody protected yourself and me. You're a soddin' hero. Think of how many other girls, he did that too. You're the lucky one, love. You survived and lived to tell the tale." She smiled and kissed his hand. "I love you," she assured. "And me, you. And me, you." 


	26. chapter 29

"Ahem."  
  
Buffy and Spike, lips and hands still attached to each other, looked over at the voice. "Mom!" Buffy screamed. She pushed Spike off of her and scooted over to the other side of the couch. She gave him a apologetic smile. "He's only been home for a couple of hours...don't you think you should, maybe, give him a rest. I mean, you've been snogging him since I saw you in the room." Buffy's eyes went wide with surprise. "Snogging!? Since when did my mother say snog?" Her eyes got even wider. "Uhh, Ewwww. Mom, that's nasty! Is that why!" She paused. "You told me you were doing house work! That's why there was 'hammering' going on in Giles room. Because you were fixing his wall. But...you were...with Giles...in...Ahhh..." Joyce fixed her hair and straightened her shirt. "I'm, uhh, going back over. Bye honey!" Buffy closed her eyes tightly and banged her head on the couch. Spike's cool fingers crept over her spine.  
  
She looked him in the eyes and bit her lip. "Make-make me forget," she said breathed out. "'Bout what, love?" She blushed. "Are you going to make me say it?" He shook his head with a smirky grin, and, once again, connected his mouth with hers.  
Giles collapsed beside his love. Joyce laid her head next to his chest. "They love each other, you know?" she said, her fingers making lazy circles on arm. "How can they?" he asked through clenched teeth. She shrugged. "They do." She paused. "You-you should go talk to her. Your approval means a lot to her." He nodded silently. "I know it's hard for you, but both of you mean a lot to her. And you mean a lot to me." She gave him a supportive kiss, but he just laid there, no motion that he was going to move. "For me," she said, knowing that it would cave him. He sighed heavily and slipped some trousers on.  
  
He knocked on the door, not wanting to interrupt anything. She was lying on her stomach, in her big bed, watching TV. "Come in," she said while yawning. Spike began to tickle her sides. She slapped at his hands. "I said come in," she yelled louder this time, even though laughs erupted her constant voice. Giles stepped in, cringing at the sight: Spike touching Buffy. Even as innocent as it was, it still made him quiver. "Buffy?" he asked. She looked at him, the first time since she told them she loved Spike. "Yes?" He coughed. "Can I talk to you out here?" Buffy and Spike exchanged a glanced. "Sure..." she said.  
  
She closed the door behind her, not liking how this talk started out. He just stared at her. "What did you want to talk to me about?" She already knew, but playing dumb was her best bet. "You bloody well know, Buffy." He paused, "You don't love him." She laughed inside. "Excuse me?" He took off his glasses. "You were out of your head. You don't love him –you can't." She crossed her arms over her chest. "And why not?" she asked, her voice too high. "Because. You deserve better than him. He's soddin' trash." She took steps away from him. "No-no he's not. He's not...not trash. I love him and he loves me. And I don't want anyone else. I want him. I don't deserve better. He's-he's..." Giles cut her off. "Has he touched you?" His voice was strong and commanding. "What?" He took his taut fist and banging it against the wall. "Has. He Bloody. Touched. You?" She looked at him with awe. "Why does it matter?"  
  
This was no longer Rupert anymore; the Ripper was out and about and came for play. "Because, I will soddin' kill him if he has laid one finger on you." His voice went right through her. She shuddered. "It's none of your business, but no. No he hasn't." She was about to walk back into her room, but his hand stopped her.  
  
He grabbed her hard, on the hand, yanking her towards him. "I don't trust you. Not while-while your with him." His finger pointed towards the door. She put her hand up to her shirt collar and held it there. "You're scaring me." He put more pressure on her arm and she cried out. "You're hurting me, Giles!" He looked at her arms. It had bruises. "Did he do this to you?" he asked. She shook her head no, but he didn't see. He traced the finger marks up her sleeve, but she slapped his hand away. A deep growl came out from his mouth and he ripped her shirt off. She collapsed the floor, holding her head in her hands. "Spike-he didn't do this to me." He questioned, "Then who did?" She shot ice daggers through her eyes. "Angel."  
  
He staggered back, with his glasses in his hands. What had he just done?  
  
She ran into her room, locking it. "What happened, love?" Spike asked concerned. "Noth-nothing." He looked down. "He doesn't want you to bloody be with me, does he?" She shook her head. "But-but does it matter?" He looked bewildered at her. "It does matter," he paused, "to you." He was right. She cared about Giles' approval more than the relationship. That was going to change. Starting...now. "Not anymore," she said, getting on her bed, topless and not caring. She laid next to him, feeling the warmth between them. "I will always love you," he said kissing her on her forehead. "For ever and ever," she finished while drifting off to sleep. 


	27. chapter 30

Joyce knocked on Buffy's door. "Honey?" She replied, "Wha?" Joyce knocked louder. "Open this door now, young lady!" She good out of bed, but on her shirt and unlooked her door. "Don't have a cow," she said before putting her body back in bed, with Spike. His arm wrapped around her, subconsciously. He was still sleeping. "I don't like you having Spike in your room without telling me," her mother said sternly. Buffy sighed. "Mom. You stay over at Giles all the time." She sneered Giles' name. "It's not like Spike and I are even doing anything. Can't I just go back to bed?" Joyce nodded. "Sure sweetie. We'll, talk about this, when you're more awake."  
  
Joyce slipped on her slippers and walked over to Rupert's flat. "You lied to me!" she yelled right after she closed the door. "Huh?" She cornered him on the wall. "Buffy isn't sleeping with Spike. He was just lying there. No contact or any signs of sex!" He sighed. "That doesn't matter. He's still touching her. That's just as bad."  
  
"What did you tell Buffy?" she asked, her attention level becoming short. He stuttered. "Well-I, err." She repeated again, "What did you tell her, damnit!" He pushed her away from him. "I told her that she didn't bloody love him. That it had to be a mistake." He sat down at the table. He took off his glasses and put them besides an old glass of water. "He-he's not good enough for her. I know where he comes from." She looked at his face. "She's-she's been through too much," he mumbled. His hands lay out in front of him. "What do you know?" she asked, sitting down across from him. He shook his head. "No...you know something. What is it?" He looked away from her. Joyce must not know what Angel did to her baby. "No-nothing. I'm going over there to talk to her." He got up from his chair and headed for the door. "She really does love him," she said softly.  
"Buffy, we need-we need to talk," Spike said, while rolling over to face her in the bed. She smiled. "'Bout what, sweetie?" She noticed the not so happy look on her face and frowned. "What's wrong? Are you hurting?" she asked. He shook his head no. How was he going to do this?  
  
Giles walked over to her room. He didn't knock on the front door, because he knew that they wouldn't hear them. He was about to tap on her door, but he heard voices. He decided to listen, instead.  
  
"You-you can't be with me," he said. "What?" she asked, not sure she heard him correctly. "It's not you. It's me. I don'-don't deserve you. Rupie is bloody right. You could do so much soddin' better, Summers." Tears started pouring from her eyes. "No. No you do not!" She stood up on her wary legs. "You do not get to make decisions for me!" Her voice was practically pleading, "I love you damnit!" She was on her knees, now. "I don't care what you think-think is best for me. I know what's right for me. And that's- that's you!" She sighed. "God. I have finally gotten over him. That asshole who fucked up my life, and yet, you want to do that to me, again? How dare you!" She paused. "Why-why can't you just forget what Giles said? I don't care what anyone thinks of you or me or us. I just-I just want to be with you. Is that too much to ask?"  
  
Spike walked over to her and helped pick her up. "Love, I'm not trying to make your life bloody difficult, only easier. I just-I just don't want to be your rebound guy who got you over soddin' peaches." She looked at him. "You will never be a replacement. Do you understand that? Never." He nodded slowly. 'He was only insecure..."  
  
She whispered into his ear, "I want all of me to be yours." He mumbled back, "Soon enough, love. Soon enough."  
  
Giles stood aghast at the door. What did he just hear? He wasn't sure.  
  
Buffy got up from her current position from Spike. "Want some water?" she asked. "Nah." She opened the door and was confronted with an astounded Giles. "What are you doing here?" she said coldly. "I guess I deserved that," he mused out loud. She got up the courage to speak. "Yes. Yes you deserve that and so much more. If it were up to me, I would love to never see your face again. But my mother's in love with you...so it's kind of hard not to." He didn't speak. "How much did you hear?" He stammered. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. "Ev-everything." She "hmped". "Are you happy now?" She walked out, pushing by him.  
  
Giles didn't know what to do. "You love her," he stated. Spike rolled his eyes. "I know what you're bloody gonna say. So just save it." He sighed. "I'm sorry, okay?" Spike turned around. "What?" his voice was filled with question. "I. Your. You really do love her, don't you?" He faced Giles. "Yea, I do." Giles groaned. "What about, about..." Spike cut him off, "Dru?" Giles nodded. "What 'bout her?" Spike was truly baffled. What did Giles know about Drusilla? "I heard the bloody rumors, William. I know how you handle your women. I will not let you do that to Buffy. She's too, too...." Giles stopped there, too caught up in his musings. "Wh't 're you talkin' 'bout? I treated Dru with 'spect! She's the one w'o got me arrested. I neva' meant to-to have her break me like she soddin' did!" Giles was speechless. "What 'bout Harmony and Drusilla and Darla and all those others that you so viciously 'shagged'?" Spike was appalled. "I never did those things. Yea, I may have shagged them, but I never hurt them. I don't force a women to bed; I thought you bloody knew me better than that." He turned to leave. "I thought you at least knew that about me," he said before he left the room.  
  
Giles exhaled loudly. Was anything going right for him today? "William?" Giles called out, running towards him. Spike snapped. "What?" Giles sighed. Buffy wasn't anywhere to be found. "No-nothing." Spike smirked. "Figures," he said under his breath and left the Summer's residence. He needed to find Buffy. He needed to feel better...before he did something stupid. 


	28. chapter 31the end

"Buffy?" Spike yelled out. She just had to be in the park. She had to be. "Buffy?" he screamed louder.  
  
She thought she heard her name being called. 'It's just my mind,' she thought, while swinging back and forth on the black swing. Her mind was in a big swirl. Why was being happy so hard?  
  
Spike walked through the cold. Even with his duster on, the draftiness went straight to his bones. She saw her. How could he not miss her? She was so beautiful, breathtaking really. "Buffy," he said, lighting up a cigarette. He saw her. She was on the swing. He let out a sigh. At least she didn't run away...or that far, really. He slowly walked up to her. "You look cold, love," his voice broke her zombie like gaze at the ground. "What? Huh? No. I can't feel anything." Yes, her body might be cold, but it didn't register in her head. She was shivering. "Kitten, you're freezing. Here, use my duster." She smiled and took it.  
  
He sat down on the other swing, right beside her. "You okay?" She shrugged. "Does it matter?" She ran her shoe through the grass. "I mean, by the way my luck plays out, I probably will never be truly happy." Spike snapped, "Buffy, you have to stop thinkin' like that. Life isn't easy. It was never meant to be that way. You have to get over your slump. I love you. I have since the first day I saw you." He braked. "You have to work to be happy. And...I want to help you, be happy, that is." She shivered. "I don't deserve you. Nobody-nobody has ever come after me before. They would just leave me out here. Not caring." She took his hand that he offered her. "I love you," she whispered. He replied, "I love you, too."  
  
They walked up the stairs together, holding hands and staring into each other's eyes. They walked into Buffy's flat, without noticing Giles standing outside of his door.  
  
"How could they ever forgive me?" Giles asked out loud. Joyce said to him, after returning deeper than he left, that he couldn't have any more of her, until he fixed everything. This was going to be one hell of a problem to fix. Mustering all the courage he had, he walked over to Buffy's. He knocked. Nothing. He knocked again. "Come in," came a giggling voice. He opened the door. The two were on the couch, snuggled up together watching a comedy movie. Buffy looked over at the once loved neighbor. "If you're here to rain on our parade, then just leave." His words came out in a rush, "No. It's not that at all, I just want to say." He cleaned his glasses.  
  
Spike got impatient. "You'd like to say what?" Giles hesitated. "I-uh-I didn't mean what I said." He thought about it, "Well, yes I did. But I didn't mean it so rude. I love you, Buffy, and I don't-don't want to see anything bad happen to you. And Willi-Spike. You know I love you and, after all I heard, I just thought. With your destructive tendencies, I just, I don't want either of you to get hurt." Buffy sighed. Nope. She could never ever stay mad at him, just like Spike. Maybe it was in their genes. "I don't hate you, Giles. It just hurt me that-I love Spike, so much, and it hurt that you didn't accept that." Giles smiled. "I understand now. I think. It's just that both of you have been so consumed in pain, that mixing you together, would be like bloody chaos." They all shared a reflective nod. "Thou ist forgiven. Now go." Buffy said, fleeing Giles off. "Go and do the freaky with my mom." She shuddered at the thought. "You sure?" They both nodded. "Just...be quiet. Please? I mean, the walls are pretty thin. Thank God we're over here." She looked over at Spike and winked.  
She laid in bed, resting her head on Spike's naked chest. "I'm glad everything's normal. I can't say again, because it was never normal in the first place, but yea. And." Spike hushed her with his lips. "Don't ruin it, love." She smacked him playfully. "I could never ruin this!" He sighed. "No. No you couldn't. We're too..." She finished for him, "Perfect?" He smiled. "'Xatly what I was gonna say."  
  
"You feel better?" he asked. "Yea. Tons. I'm in my Spike heaven," she answered him  
  
"I love you," he whispered into her ear, tickling it. "I love you more," she replied, intertwining her fingers with his. She was happy now. Well, content at least. She was with her friend. Lover. Soul mate. And nothing could take him away from her. Nothing. 


End file.
